


Easy is the descent

by Accal1a



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety, BAMF Stiles, BAMF Theo, Character Death, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, I'll tag more as the story gets away from me, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Miscommunication, Murder, Panic Attacks, Protective Scott, Rough Kissing, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Swearing, murder boyfriends, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:32:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accal1a/pseuds/Accal1a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't feel welcome in the pack anymore and Theo gives him an alternative. After all, they're doing the work the pack would be doing anyway, just with a slight twist.</p><p>Of course Peter doesn't like what Theo's turning Stiles into, this isn't <em>his</em> Stiles; and he wants the old one back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [htgaw-deadpool](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=htgaw-deadpool).



> Based off the Tumblr prompt: "AU where Void!Stiles and Theo are dating and they go against Scott and what’s left of his pack. Peter comes to the rescue because he’s jealous of Steo and doesn’t like what Theo turned Stiles into."
> 
> This work is a canon divergence because of the following:
> 
> ♥ Theo didn't kill Scott;  
> ♥ Theo didn't maim the Sheriff; and  
> ♥ Theo didn't resurrect the chimera pack.
> 
> So, Theo is still his generally manipulative self; but currently solo.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> My beautiful beta deserves props for editing; but also for coming up with the idea in the first place. Couldn't have done this without you, J. *hugs*
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Also, [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MW8gN_OYrQ&list=PL157C24477B5B929F&index=91) was made about the same time I started posting this and it has been very helpful to rewatch...constantly...on a loop. (I am in no way affiliated with the person who made this, just a fan - seriously their videos are amazing, you should go watch. :D)

“You’ve still got more blood on your hands than any of us.”

“I’m about to get more.”

Stiles pummelled him into the ground and the other boy just laughed - which just made him punch harder. 

Theo didn’t even raise a hand to defend himself; which made Stiles even more angry. No-one talked to him about his possession with such glibness. No-one. And certainly not Theo-motherfucking-Raeken. 

His knuckles were starting to hurt; but the red mist was like a drug, another part of him that he didn’t often tap into. It was a part of him that he was too _scared_ to tap into; because it was so intoxicating. If he thought about it too much it made him wonder how much of the chaos performed in the town last year was the Nogitsune; and how much of it was him. Down that way led madness, so Stiles pushed the thought back down, where it belonged.

When Stiles was worn out, he seemed to come back to himself, sinking to the hard, gravel strewn ground. He rested his forearms on his knees and hung his head between his legs, gasping for breath. On top of everything else, he seemed to be out of breath - lacrosse season couldn't come quick enough. That is if he was still _alive_ when lacrosse season came around.

Theo sat up, staring at Stiles as the older boy got his breath back. The wounds healed and he briefly wondered whether Stiles had done himself an injury.

As if bidden by Theo’s thoughts, Stiles lifted his head.

“Feel better?”

Stiles just grunted, giving the other boy a side-long glance.

“Don’t want to talk?”

“Screw you, Theo.”

“Maybe later.” Theo answered swiftly, throwing him a wink as he did so.

Stiles made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat; but didn’t move away from the other boy. He was too tired, too confused by the barrage of emotions. He wasn’t angry anymore; couldn’t even summon the desire to _be_ angry; he was just numb, an emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Theo said suddenly, springing to his feet and offering a hand to Stiles as he looked down at him.

“I’m not going _anywhere_ with you.” Stiles replied venomously, the anger threatening to engulf him again.

“Where else are you going to go?”

Stiles started at that, the jerky movement causing his lower back to twinge. He had pulled a muscle and wasn’t _that_ just great? Here was Theo looking like nothing had happened and his back chose this moment to start hurting, the throb beating in time with the ache in his hand now he’d noticed it. This was just perfect. 

All fight that he’d been gearing up for again before Theo’s scathing comment dissipated like smoke. He had him there.

“Okay _fine_ ; but I’m driving.”

Theo smirked again and Stiles absently imagined punching him in the face. The mental image was going to have to do for now; he couldn’t get up the energy to do anything about it. He barely had the energy to stand; but he wasn’t going to give Theo the satisfaction of pulling him up, so he did so on his own, only wobbling slightly when he found his feet.

~~~

They pulled into the parking lot of an all-night diner just outside of Beacon Hills. It wasn’t one Stiles had been to before and that was why he had chosen it. It was outside the county as well, which meant it was unlikely any off-duty deputies would frequent it either. The last thing he needed right now was anyone recognising him. He wasn’t exactly sure why he needed the anonymity; but he did…and he was too tired to work out why. Theo had tried to get them to stop multiple times at all-night eateries; but Stiles just barked out a sharp ‘no’ and carried on driving.

Stiles turned the vehicle into a space with unnecessary force and ended up parking half in one space and half in another. The lot was empty though so he couldn’t much bring himself to care, even if he was normally more socially conscious than that. 

Without another word, Stiles leapt out of the borrowed jeep and stalked towards the lights, not waiting for Theo to catch up. If he did manage to catch up and the door managed to slam into his face, that was just going to be a bonus.

Even though they were outside the county, Stiles found a booth in the corner as far away from the door as possible. The table was also partially obscured by the kitchen counter; and that suited him just fine.

“Corner booth? How romantic.” Theo drawled, sliding into the seat opposite.

“Will you just shut up?” Stiles replied; but his heart really wasn’t in it. He thought it may have come out sounding more like a plea than the scathing response he had intended.

They sat in silence. 

It wasn’t companionable; but it wasn’t awkward either which confused Stiles further. Maybe he was just tired. That would explain the distinct lack of drive he had to sort through his jumbled thoughts; and his evidently stupid choice of dinner companion.

When the waitress came over, Stiles jumped slightly; but Theo remained still, calm and composed. Stiles didn’t think it was possible to hate him more than he did; but irrationally that seemed to make it worse.

“What can I get you two?”

“Coffee.” Stiles said, managing a smile, so as not to appear rude. “Just coffee.”

The waitress turned to Theo, who just waved her off. He went back to studying Stiles, trying to work out just how he ticked. Curiosity got the better of him though.

“Are you supposed to be drinking that?”

“That’s a misnomer.” Stiles answered automatically, having had this conversation more times than he could count.

“Oh.”

The waitress returned quickly with the coffee pot and filled a mug for Stiles in silence, realising the boys weren’t the type that would need chit chat. She probably wouldn’t even get a tip out of this. Great. There was an intensity to them which set off her alarm bells; but they didn't seem to be threatening towards her, more to each other. She kept close to the counter in anycase, returning there often so as to be near the panic button incase it all went to hell in a handbasket. 

Stiles cupped his hands round the mug, almost scalding himself trying to get warm. He was cold all of a sudden and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature in the diner.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles looked up from the steam he had been staring at; fascinated by the way it curled and then disappeared. It seemed to be a visual representation of his life at the moment. Something which was seen; and then rapidly lost. He had a look of disbelief on his face; but as he looked into the eyes which were staring at him; he was unsure all of a sudden. Theo seemed to genuinely want to help; and really, who else was he going to talk to?

“Not really.” He replied automatically. It was a variation on ‘I’m fine’; and he’d been saying that for so long, he couldn’t even remember how to say he wasn’t fine when he needed to.

“Here.” Theo said gently, reaching for Stiles’ hand. It was sporting bloody knuckles and a pretty impressive egg shape.

Stiles froze. He didn’t pull away; but he gripped the mug tighter, not wanting to give in to the touch either.

Veins of black scoured up Theo’s hand and into his arm, where they faded. Theo’s face didn’t change, remaining impassive.

Stiles found himself admiring him. Scott could never do that without a sharp intake of breathe or some form of wince; which always made Stiles feel it was a fruitless (if noble) exercise. Still, maybe True Alpha’s brought people’s suffering onto themselves in a purely altruistic fashion, which is what made them such. 

He mumbled a 'thanks' once the pain had lowered to a dull ache. His back didn’t hurt at all. He thought Theo’s hand lingered for a beat longer than necessary; but he wasn’t sure; and in any case this really wasn't the time to be dealing with _that_ as well.

Stiles took a sip of his coffee to distract himself and grimaced. He proceeded to dump half of the sugar pourer’s contents into the mug, stirring as he did so.

Theo laughed when he saw what he was doing.

“What’s the point of coffee, if you’re just going to ruin it like that?”

Stiles looked up mid-pour. Looking furtively around to see how close the waitress was. He saw her on the other side of the diner, bussing tables. Occasionally she would glance across at them and frown. He tried to placate her by smiling; but he thought he just worried her more as she looked away quickly and went back to the counter for a moment.

“This could not, under any circumstances, be classed as 'coffee'.” He pushed the mug towards Theo. “Here.”

Theo reluctantly took the cup that had been thrust at him. He raised it to his mouth, took a sip and them similarly grimaced.

“Oh my God, what fresh hell is this?”

Stiles laughed and was particularly surprised to find it was genuine. He’d been fretting for so long he’d almost forgotten what laughter even was. Theo pushed the coffee back across the table, causing a scraping noise and bringing Stiles back to the situation at hand.

“If you can drink it all, I’ll buy you dinner. If not, you have to pay.”

Stiles grinned at his friend. Possible friend. Current booth mate. Person he tolerated. Guy who was someone he used to know. He grinned at _someone_ anyway. He was good at bets. He always won bets.

To his credit, Stiles did manage to drink about 2/3 of the cup before pushing it away.

“I’m going to die!” he moaned, pulling his wallet from his pocket and putting it on the table. “At least this place isn’t expensive.”

Theo chuckled again; and Stiles noticed how it lit up his whole face as he did so, his eyes twinkling slightly.

They stayed in the diner for hours, lazily picking through their food. Theo laughed easily and often and that made Stiles even more confused. He couldn’t summon the urge he’d had earlier to beat him down; and he felt off that he seemed to be having a nice evening. It seemed like such a long time since he’d been able to just be a kid: hanging out; eating chilli fries; and attempting to work out lacrosse plays using different condiment bottles. He didn’t have to save the world here; didn’t have to be doing any research; didn’t have to be constantly assessing the danger; constantly worrying about his friends. He felt…he felt relaxed and he was saddened to find he didn’t immediately recognise the feeling. 

When he started to get tired, he actually lamented the fact; and when he advised they leave, throwing money on the table as he did so, he thought Theo was exhibiting the same look.

Theo raised an eyebrow at the crumpled bills on the table. “You’re actually going to pay?”

“I honour all my bets!” Stiles replied indignantly. After a short pause, he surprised himself and Theo with his next words. “You can get it next time.”

Stiles led the way out of the diner, across the much darker parking lot, towards the rental.

Theo smiled as he followed him. Maybe this was going to be easier than he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke to light streaming through his bedroom window. 

It was hitting him straight in the eye; and he lamented not closing the curtains all the way when he’d gone to bed the previous night. He was still in that half-awake state where he was awake enough to be annoyed at his past self; but not so awake that he could muster the energy to do anything about it. He groaned, putting his forearm across his face to try to block out the rays. Unfortunately, that was one movement too much and his brain kicked into gear.

Sitting up, he reached for the pill bottle beside him and shook it slightly, before popping the lid, scooping out some of the contents and dry swallowing it. He remembered that his father used to have to crush the tablets in his food and trick him into taking them by sprinkling them on his fruit loops. Over time, he had got better and better at taking the medication (when he remembered) until he was at the point he was now, where he thought no more of it; almost taking them without noticing. Except now his brain had gone off on one about half-lives and mechanisms of action and there was nothing stopping him. Sometimes he wished he could take the pills about 30 minutes before he woke up so that when he was conscious he was immediately a little calmer. Some days, when he was feeling particularly uncharitable, he wished he wasn’t the person that he was.

Scrubbing his hand across his face, he noticed the beginnings of some stubble there; but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was awake damnit, what else did the universe want?

He should really get the prescription re-filled. Mundane thing like the doctors (of the non-‘dread’ variety) seemed far removed from the world he had been living in for the last few years. He sometimes went days without taking his pills – not on purpose; but as a direct result of one catastrophe after another and he’d forgotten to check how many refills he had left. It wasn’t fair on the pack to have to deal with him in that state; but he couldn’t deny flitting from one subject to another and being unable to concentrate actually worked sometimes. He could see patterns other people missed, not because he was smart necessarily (although he knew he was); but because he had moved from one subject to another so quickly that the link seemed obvious.

The doctor had long ago given up on admonishing him for the periodic breaks in his treatment. Stiles knew he was supposed to take it; knew he was antsy without it; but pesky things like werewolves, 1000-year-old demons and bloody druids kept getting in the way. He’d laugh about the whole thing if he wasn’t so bone weary about the thought of having to deal with yet another crisis.

There was no more research to do at the moment. The dread doctors, whilst clearly doing something untoward with the teenagers in this town, didn’t seem to actually be causing any ‘real’ trouble. In fact Stiles was starting to wonder why they were fighting them at all. They were clearly too powerful for them to best; and realistically, as long as they didn’t take too many people; didn’t make a mistake which caused too many deaths; didn’t end up bringing the FBI in by the frequency of their crimes; or in fact, didn’t take anyone they knew and cared about Stiles couldn’t see the problem – although he’d never tell the pack that.

Running errands seemed like a good way to pass the time. 

It wasn’t as if there was anyone he could call. At this point he had to assume Scott had told everyone what he’d done and as no-one had called him, he assumed no-one wanted to. Malia didn’t even climb through his window last night; and he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

He padded down the stairs still in his pyjamas, the thin track pants he wore riding low on his hips. He noticed the stillness of the house and that meant his dad was on the early shift. Foraging for breakfast, he made a note of what they needed by way of food. If his dad had his way they’d be eating nothing but Pop Tarts and ready meals, so Stiles often did the shopping and a lot of the cooking. 

It was grounding in a way that none of his other occasional chores were. He actually quite enjoyed cooking, it was something logical which he could do, some ‘normal’ task that he could set his mind to. Added to which, there were (usually) no werewolves in the supermarket.

~~~

Theo woke up and sat up in one fluid motion.

Last night had actually been fun in places and although he was keeping the prize in his sights, he couldn’t deny that he’d had a nice time. Stiles was genuine in all of his emotions, which was something he was going to have to knock out of him. When he had been angry, he wanted to stay angry even when he was too exhausted to do so. That was a dedication that even Theo didn’t possess. His emotions ran their course, Stiles seemed to dwell.

Getting dressed, he started to wonder how he was going to engineer another meeting, when his phone beeped. The message didn’t have any text inside it, which meant he was needed with them. He may owe them a lot; but that didn’t mean he didn’t find the Doctors creepy. He wondered what they wanted now.

~~~

Stiles went round the supermarket quickly, ducking behind a display of tins at one point when he thought he saw someone he knew. He really wasn’t sure why he was acting so cagey. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, or at least he was pretty sure he had done nothing wrong. Theo was sort of right. He didn’t believe in justifiable homicide; but Stiles did believe in not letting someone just kill you. Self –defence which ends in death happens all the time in America and very few people are convicted of it because fighting for your life is a pretty good excuse. Why Theo was the only person who seemed to realise that was beyond him. Why Scott was acting so self-righteous was also beyond him. Not everyone could be perfect like him.

About half way home, Stiles was starting to wonder what he was going to do with himself. Obviously he had to keep going to school; but he couldn’t work out how to do that with no-one talking to him. It was one thing to know they were all avoiding him; but quite another to see it in practice. It didn’t matter how angry he was with Scott, the vision of him walking down a corridor; seeing him; and then turning around and walking away, wouldn’t stop playing through his brain. 

It was only when he had to pull over because he couldn’t see that he realised he was crying. He scrubbed at his face angrily, willing himself to stop but the tears kept coming. He went to punching the steering wheel.

~~~

Theo couldn’t believe his luck. 

There was him thinking up scenarios as to how he was going to see Stiles without outright calling him and there was the rental, parked at the side of the road. As he got closer, he could hear the rhythmic banging and intermittent sobs that were emanating from the car.

Moving quickly, he got his hand through the window and between Stiles’ fist and the steering wheel in one smooth motion. When Stiles’ fist connected with his hand, he closed his hand around it, holding on with his preternatural strength. The look of surprise on Stiles’ face would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so heart-breaking. As it was, Theo had to remember to school his face into a concerned mask rather than the look of triumph it wanted to form. Stiles was falling apart, which meant he’d be that much easier to reform.

“Stiles?”

All fight seemed to leave Stiles at once and he slumped forward, his forehead resting on Theo’s arm. The position was awkward for Theo, still standing outside the car and with one arm inside; but he was pleased all the same. Here was Stiles at his most broken and he was leaning on him. Whether he realised it or not, at least in this moment he trusted him, which was a jumping off point he could work from.

Theo patted Stiles' shoulder with his free hand.

“Hey Stiles, it’s okay.”

Stiles didn’t answer; but he didn’t move either.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J, you are an amazing beta, I hope you know that. I'm going to keep telling you regardless.

Theo was warm and Stiles felt himself relaxing even as embarrassment crept in about balling his eyes out in front of someone else – someone who was almost a stranger. He waited for a scathing comment; but Theo just rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder, which relaxed him further.

He was sitting in an awkward position; knew he was going to get a crick in his neck; but didn't want to move. This small act of kindness after the events of the last few days was almost too much for him to bear; almost made him cry again. He got a lump in the back of his throat; but refused to show any more weakness. He was better than that. Or he used to be.

He hadn't felt this safe in months, possibly even years. The fact that it was Theo who was making him feel this way was both confusing and surprising. Eventually, he lifted his head from Theo's forearm and Theo let go of his fist, which was starting to bruise.

"Diner?" Theo asked after a moment of silence.

Stiles laughed shakily, feeling a vulnerability he hadn't felt in years. He looked into the rear-view mirror and noticed the red rings around his eyes and his blotchy face. No amount of cold water was going to cover the fact he'd been crying. He didn't think he'd be able to cope with a well-meaning waitress asking him if he was okay, on top of everything else.

"Rather not." Stiles made another snap decision almost without conscious thought. "But get in though."

Theo walked around the front of the black jeep, smiling slightly to himself.

They drove in silence. 

Stiles was trying to work out what to say. How was he going to thank Theo for his presence, when he had just been in the right place at the right time? Stiles was rapidly re-evaluating Theo has he drove. Theo had stopped him hurting himself further; stood with him as he sobbed; and didn't pry after it was over. Sure, Theo might have done that for anyone but if that was the case, it made him an even nicer guy. He needed to thank him for an abstract feeling he'd had whilst they'd been connected; and he had no idea how.

When Stiles shifted gear, Theo's hand shot out and covered it, pressing his palm into the gear stick. When he did so, Stiles gasped involuntarily, not scared, just surprised. 

Theo smiled.

They stayed like that for a while, Stiles occasionally moving the stick when needed.

It was only when Stiles' hand stopped throbbing, he realised that Theo had been leeching the pain during the journey. THAT he could thank him for. Maybe that would do for now.

He pulled into his driveway, and stopped the engine. Theo didn't move his hand and Stiles looked over at him. 

"Feeling better?"

Stiles swallowed, suddenly unable to speak. Was Theo still being supportive or was something more going on?

"Yes." He cleared his throat. “Yes.” He repeated, more to prove to himself that he could.

“Good.” Theo replied. He squeezed Stiles’ hand and removed it from where it had been. 

Stiles merely stared at him, missing the contact and not knowing what to do with that information. He felt himself getting lost in Theo’s blue eyes.

Theo blinked and whatever spell had been holding Stiles broke.

“Er…sothisisme, doyouwanttocomein?” Stiles spoke quickly, his words running together.

Theo chuckled. “Sure.”

Stiles was out of the car and almost to the front door before Theo had even got his own door closed. He was laughing to himself and shaking his head as he followed Stiles inside.

The house was much the same as others in Beacon Hills. They’d all been put up at roughly the same time, so they all had a familiarity to them. Though that did make Theo wonder whether there was a conversation at some point: ‘hey, shall we put a town here?’ ‘yeah, great, let’s put all the houses up tomorrow.’ 

Stiles had stopped dead in the sitting room, his back to the door. Theo appraised him for a second or two before speaking.

“Stiles?”

Stiles jumped and spun round. Again, it was comical, if you wanted to see the comedy in the gesture. Theo just saw someone who’d been mentally ‘on the run’ for years and who didn’t know how to be safe anymore, not even apparently in their own house.

“Stiles, where’s your First-Aid kit?”

“What?”

“First…Aid…kit.” Theo repeated slower, not coming any further into the room. He was a second away from waving his arms as if to calm a spooked horse; but he hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. He hated horses.

“Oh, right. Upstairs.” Stiles waved in that general direction. “Above the sink, in the main bathroom.”

Theo retrieved it quickly, though not before he’d looked in on Stiles’ bedroom. It was a typical teenager’s bedroom, cluttered, posters of bands on the wall, school detritus all over the desk. The non-typical prominent feature though was a see-through board, taking up quite a large portion of the space. He didn’t have time (he didn’t want Stiles to think he was snooping up here, even if he was) to look over it properly; but he could see a few pertinent portions and a worryingly on-point analysis about what the Dread Doctors might be up to. That and his own name circled, far away on its own on the other side of the board. At least he hadn’t made _that_ connection.

Stiles was still standing where he’d left him, facing the door where he’d turned when Theo had spoken; but seemingly stalled in that position.

“Stiles.”

“Hmm?”

Theo softened his voice as he walked slowly towards him. “Stiles, come and sit down.”

He snagged Stiles’ injured hand on the way past and dragged him carefully to the sofa. Theo pulled Stiles down so he was sitting next to him, not letting go of the injured boy’s hand at all.

“Where does it hurt?”

Stiles’ eyes flicked up to Theo’s eyes but couldn’t meet them because Theo was staring intently at his wounds.

“Across the knuckles.” Stiles said sheepishly.

“No judgement here.” Theo replied quietly and he rubbed his thumb carefully across the bruised and bloody hand. “I’m just going to get a bowl.”

“They’re under the…”

“I’ll find them.”

Stiles slumped back on the sofa, suddenly incredibly tired. Despite the sleep he’d managed to get the night before, he had a suspicion that the sleep was that of the exhausted and not one which would have made anyone well-rested.

He must have zoned out a little because the next thing he knew, Theo had his hand in one of his again and he was dabbing lightly at his knuckles with a cloth. Stiles breathed in quickly when the antiseptic hit his wounds.

“Hey, I’ve got you.”

Stiles looked up again and this time Theo met his eyes. He continued to clean his knuckles carefully and only looked away when he had to dry his hand off.

“I’m going to have to wrap this.”

“Okay.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Stiles smiled a little at that. “Okay.”

There was a moment of silence whilst Theo looked through the supplies for a bandage. It was slow going, because he hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand to do so. He was still holding it in his palm, lightly lifting it so he could see it to go about his ministrations.

“You need to hold it steady.” Theo said, having found the right bandage.

“Okay.” Stiles repeated, having forgotten all other words in the English language – a feature which he hadn’t thought was possible until now.

It hurt to have the bandage put on, wrapped around the lump that had formed and providing the much needed compression to facilitate healing. Stiles couldn’t deny though, that after it was done, it did feel slightly better. He slumped back on the sofa again, his arm flopping to his side.

“Tsk, tsk. After all that effort I just expended?”

Stiles looked over at Theo and smiled.

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t much all I did was…”

Stiles was the one who took Theo’s hand that time, squeezing slightly just above his wrist. “No, I mean _thank you_.”

Theo looked slightly taken aback; but smiled after a moment.

“No problem, Stiles.”

They lapsed into a silence then, Theo not quite believing his luck. 

After a few minutes, he looked over to say something else to Stiles and saw that he was fast asleep. His head was lolling on the back of the sofa and his hand was still gripped tightly around Theo’s wrist.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J, you are a star.
> 
> As we all know, I like to be a chapter in hand...and Chapter 5 just was not happening. The beautiful response I got from J (and my cheerleader I) was fantastic. Basically: Stop, don't force it, everything will work out. I resisted; but I am pleased to say they were right. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one, on to the next.

Stiles woke with a start and _another_ crick in his neck. It took him a moment to recognise he wasn't in his bedroom and had a momentary panic that he'd started sleepwalking again. 

That was never a good sign.

When the muted colours of his living room came into focus he realised he was on the sofa. He had a blanket on top of him and he was grateful to his Dad for not waking him; although a little concerned that meant his Dad now knew he wasn't sleeping well. He made a mental note to start doing better at hiding it.

Lying on the sofa, he was surprised to find it quite comfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen asleep on there, it must have been the Star Was marathon he'd made Scott sit through. Not that they'd got far in; because some crisis or other had reared its ugly head. He couldn't even remember what the crisis had been....and how ridiculous was that? It meant that supernatural things were such an everyday occurance he couldn't remember all of them. Still, it meant it was a safe place. Having gone off on one in his head, he was back to thinking it would be good to have the Adderall before waking up; but he was otherwise perfectly fine.

As if bidden by his rare relaxed state, his brain kicked into gear. _Now_ he remembered the last time he'd slept on this sofa.

He remembered staggering to his feet, needing to just get out of the house, feeling threatened before he’d even opened his eyes. Scott grabbing for him, asking if he was okay; and him being so far from okay but not being able to tell him. 

He remembered wanting to at least be doing _something_ to find Lydia, to be useful rather than useless; not knowing if his weakness was going to be the cause of this towns further suffering; and wondering if this was the thing that would finally kill his father. 

He remembered Scott trying to take his pain and him not wanting him to; knowing he didn’t deserve it; knowing that the pain he was in was right and a bi-product of his failure which he would gladly take. It was his pennance and he would shoulder it gladly. 

Most of all, he remembered he’d been relieved when he hadn’t had to lie to Scott’s face about how much pain he was in; relieved that Kira had called; and further relieved that it would all be over soon; hoping that if he died he would take the spirit with him; and knowing that was a price he was willing to pay.

Now though, now he couldn't breathe.

He hadn't realised he'd bolted upright and gotten off the sofa until he tripped in the blanket and fell to his knees. The lightning bolt of pain up both legs was surprising but not enough to kick start him into normal breathing patterns again.

He could feel his lungs constricting, his vision starting to blur around the edges; a grey fog encroaching.

He was going to die.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He could hear his name being called; but it was unreal, like they were calling to him from the bottom of a well. It was a noise he knew he should respond to; but not one his brain could work out how to.

He still couldn’t breathe.

"STILES!"

He forced himself to look up, to give the person his attention. He looked into blue eyes. Eyes he was pretty sure he could have got lost in if he wasn't dying.

This wasn't his Dad. His Dad would be faffing a bit and running upstairs to find the bottle of Valium which he used in emergencies. He didn't feel unsafe with - Theo - his brain supplied, he just couldn’t bring himself to care that he was with him. 

He'd feel even better if he could just breathe.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and it was joined by one on his other side too.

"Just breathe with me Stiles. You can do it."

He couldn't.

"Come on Stiles, it's easy. Just in and out."

"I...AM..." Stiles bit out, the words costing him as the world dimmed a little more.

"Technically, yes; but I need you to slow it down. I'm not going into that zen crap; because we both know that you don't need that right now. I just want you to breathe at half the speed you're going. That'd be great."

Theo breathed deliberately and slowly, raising his shoulders as he did so. With Stiles' shoulders gripped tightly in his hands, this forced him to raise his shoulders too, making a larger chest cavity. It made him breathe deeper without him consciously doing so. It was purely a physical reflex. It took a while; but eventually Stiles' breaths, though ragged, were slow enough that the room came back into focus.

He unbent his legs and, knees protesting as he did so, sat cross-legged on the floor instead. The pins and needles shooting up and down his legs were actually a grounding force, although it hurt.

Stiles raised his bandaged right hand and patted Theo's left.

He looked up and locked eyes with Theo, offering a wan smile. Theo smiled back.

"Want to talk about it?"

Stiles shrugged, his gaze falling to the floor. "Nothing to talk about. It was a panic attack, I get them sometimes."

"Yes, Stiles." Theo said patiently. "I know what a panic attack is. I meant do you want to talk about the cause?"

"Not re..." Stiles cut himself off. 

He didn't _owe_ Theo an explanation and yet he felt like he deserved one. If Theo hadn't been there, then he'd have been passed out on the floor when his Dad came home. It wouldn’t be the first time; but his Dad had enough to worry about and he didn't want to give him anything more to deal with. Added to which, he felt like he could tell Theo things, things he couldn't bring up with anyone else. Even Scott couldn't talk him down from a panic attack. This guy at least warranted half an explanation if not the whole one.

"Er...so, yeah...you know I was, um. Last year, you know I had..."

Theo took Stiles' bandaged hand which he'd been picking at absently with his fingers, the bandage starting to fray slightly. Holding onto it and resting his and Stiles' hands on Stiles' knee, he jumped in. Stiles looked up and smiled again.

"I know you had a rough year."

"Right, yes of course you do, Void!Stiles. Okay." The smile fell away and Stiles went back to looking down while he was talking.

Stiles was mumbling. Not for the first time, Theo was pleased for his enhanced hearing. He wasn’t sure a human would have been able to pick up on what Stiles was saying.

“It’s just…I don’t know…sometimes the enormity of it hits me. Like I can be doing something totally mundane…” Stiles laughed without mirth, when could his life be considered 'mundane' now? “like sleeping on the sofa; and I’ll suddenly remember how it was." 

His gaze flicked up to Theo's. Theo nodded and Stiles continued, his gaze falling almost as soon as he started. 

"Um...What it was like to be taken over, what it was like to be locked in my own mind, what it was like to do those things to people – people who didn’t deserve it. Part of me…there was part of me that liked what I was doing; the way that it was clever; but the other part of me is still in shock, like I can’t breathe sometimes. I hurt so many people, not just physically and sometimes I can’t even believe it.”

Theo linked his fingers with Stiles’ and squeezed gently, careful not to hurt the injured hand. “Did you ask for it?”

“What?”

“Did you ask to be possessed?”

Stiles looked up sharply, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“No, you didn’t. You were taken over against your will and you did things you’re not proud of. We’ve all done that. The thing you have to work out now, is: whether the thoughts you’re having about how you enjoyed it are really what you’ve been suppressing all along; or if it was entirely this thing's doing. It doesn’t even really matter either way, you just need to know so you can move on with your life.”

Stiles squeezed Theo’s hand back; but didn’t say anything.


	5. Chapter 5

“I need a drink.”

Theo arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you drink?”

“No. Well, once. With Sc...um...no; not really. You want coffee?”

“Sure.”

Theo watched Stiles walk into the kitchen from his vantage point on the floor; studying his subdued movements and filing them away for future reference. He'd seen people have panic attacks before, knew the signs, knew what people would be like afterwards; but it seemed like it took more out of Stiles than he would let on. Theo wondered what the initial source of his panic disorder was. If he could find the catalyst, he may be able to exploit it to his advantage, either by solving it and 'saving the day' or using it as a surreptitious scare tactic.

Stiles was always exhausted after a panic attack. Physiologically he knew _why_ , but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. Of _course_ the lack of oxygen would make you dizzy; of course the energy expended would make you tired; but it still blowed anyway. He had far fewer panic attacks these days and actually that kind of made it worse. Just when he thought they were over for good, one would happen; and somehow that was more stressful. The shock of having one after so long knocked him off kilter for days; and he couldn't help but feel annoyed with himself for it. He should be better by now.

He struggled to stand, ignoring the way his stomach lurched and his brain swam. He resolutely refused to pass out, one meltdown was quite enough to be getting along with at the moment. He walked slowly into the kitchen, still feeling dizzy.

Theo called after Stiles, asking him if he needed any help.

“I'm fine!” Stiles shouted back, wavering on his feet and feeling decidedly _not_ fine. He grabbed onto the counter with both hands after another wave of dizziness washed over him. Bowing his head, he took in long deep breaths to try to stave off the nausea.

There must have been something in his tone that belayed the lie; because Theo was behind him in a second, hands on his waist, steadying him.

“I'm fine, Theo.” Stiles tried, turning around so he was leaning against the counter. The counter gave him something more solid to lean on and he felt slightly steadier.

Theo let him go, moving his hands to rest on the counter top instead, effectively trapping Stiles in.

“I'm _fine_.” Stiles said again.

“Liar.” Theo replied, a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Okay.” Stiles whispered, suddenly acutely aware of how close Theo was. He swallowed, his throat dry. “Okay, no. I'm not fine; but I will be. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Theo said and then, with no warning, he kissed him; closing the short distance between them and licking his lips in preparation as he did so.

It took Stiles a moment for his brain to catch up; but when it did, he was surprised to find that he welcomed this new development. Not wanting to be outdone, he moved his hands up to rest on Theo's waist, pulling him in slightly as he did so.

Theo opened his mouth slightly and Stiles took that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, plundering Theo's mouth as if it were an ice cream on a hot summer's day. He licked around the inside of his mouth and earned a groan from Theo in return.

They were almost the same height, so they seemed to fit together perfectly. There were no awkward moments when they had to reach to grab a part of the other person they so desperately needed to touch.

Stiles' hands roved around Theo's back, tracing his well defined shoulder blades and down his lithe form. He settled with his hands wrapped around Theo's waist, pulling him as close as was possible. 

Initially Theo had been cupping Stiles' face with his hands; but as the kiss deepened, that wasn't close enough, so his hands ended up in Stiles hair, getting slightly slick with gel. 

Stiles was lost in the passion of the moment, not knowing or caring what was happening anywhere apart from in his kitchen. There were no crises in this moment; no-one trying to kill him; no overwhelming anxiety. There was just this kiss; and a peace he hadn't felt for ages settling over him.

For Theo's part, he was just pleased that Stiles was a good kisser, otherwise it would have been more difficult to pretend. As it was, Stiles' tongue was doing wonders and he could feel his body responding. He needed to make sure he kept that in check.

They heard the sound of a key in the lock to the front door and they sprung apart. Their lips were swollen and Stiles' pupils were blown so wide you could barely see the irises. If anyone walked in now it would be patently obvious what had been going on.

Theo moved with swiftness to sit down at the kitchen table, making sure he pulled his chair in all the way to hide his blatant excitement.

Stiles spun around so he was facing the counter, actually making the coffee he'd been attempting to make pre-kiss. He wondered how much time had passed; what this meant for him and Theo; what he _thought_ about the idea of him and Theo; what he was supposed to say to broach the subject of what just happened; whether this was an accident; whether Theo had kissed him out of pity.

“You're thinking too loudly.”

Stiles twisted the top half of his body around so he could see Theo, making sure to keep his bottom half pressed into the counter top.

“What?”

“Stop over thinking it. We'll talk later.”

Stiles marvelled at the fact that Theo apparently knew him well enough to know when he'd gone off on one in his head. He couldn't deny the affinity he had for the other boy; but he was surprised even so that he could read him so well. Scott could only do it sporadically; but Theo was currently in the lead – if people were counting, which Stiles wasn't. He was angry with himself for continually comparing Theo to Scott; but the fact of the matter was Scott had turned his back on him and Theo had been nothing but supportive; it wasn't rocket science to notice which relationship he needed more of right now.

“You're doing it ag...Good Afternoon, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Sheriff.” He corrected automatically, still in work mode.

“Dad!”

“Right, sorry. So...Theo, is it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Nice to see you. Hope you're keeping out of trouble.”

The Sheriff gave Theo a look which Stiles couldn't decipher. It was clearly part pity but he wasn't sure what else was in it. In any case, he was both confused and curious; and filed it away for something else to ask Theo about later.

“Coffee, Dad?”

“Thanks Kiddo; but I think I'm all caffeined out for the day. I'm going to hit the hay for a bit.” He paused, then started to wander off towards the stairs. “Honestly, these night shifts are going to kill me. Still, can't make my deputies do them if I'm not seen doing them myself.”

“Don't work too hard, Dad.”

“I'm okay Stiles, just tired. See you later on.”

With that, the Sheriff left the kitchen and a slightly awkward silence fell.

“So, that happened.” Stiles finally said.

“Yeah, it did.” Theo said with a smile. “Want to test out your sofa this time?”

“It'd be rude not to, really.” Stiles answered, putting his racing mind on hold. Whatever this was, whatever this _meant_ , could wait. “Lead the way.”

The coffee percolated, forgotten in a haze of teenage lust.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J is amazing and I don't know how to thank her without these random empty words. Brilliant Beta, very very brilliant Beta.

Stiles decided the best way to deal with the new development was just to go with it. Ordinarily, he overanalysed everything and drove himself to distraction with his anxiety; this time, he just let it go.

It wasn’t easy, every time they stopped making out, he had an almost physical reaction, knew sometimes he screwed his face up in an effort to quash all of the questions which rose unbidden in his mind. What were they doing? Why were they doing this? Did he even like Theo?

Even their texts were becoming familiar. 

Stiles found himself smiling when he heard his text message tone, knowing it would be Theo. He tried hard to forget that the reason he knew it was Theo was because no-one else texted him these days. Sometimes the loss of the pack was so painful he could barely breathe.

_Have you seen Star Wars? – SS_  
**What kind of stupid question is that? – TR**  
_Is that a ‘yes’, then? – SS_  
**You’re an idiot. – TR**

When Theo turned up at Stiles’ house 45 minutes later with a Blu-ray boxset of all six Star Wars films, Stiles thought he might be in love.

“Did you want to watch them?”

“Always.” Stiles replied, turning the TV on. “Pizza?”

“Obviously.” Theo responded, going into the kitchen and getting them both a soda.

Stiles thought periodically making out whilst watching Star Wars may have been one of the best dates ever. So clearly he needed to ruin it with his over thinking.

“Theo.”

His boyfriend? looked across at him. “Stiles.” He replied with mock solemnity.

“What are we…I mean.”

“Finally.”

“What?”

“You’ve been thinking about this for AGES! I thought I was going to have to bring it up.”

“Yeah, well…why didn’t you? No, never mind. Theo…”

“You still haven’t asked me anything.”

“Um.”

“Yes, Stiles. We’re dating.” Theo said, with a hint of a smile, reaching across to squeeze Stiles’ hand.

“We are?”

Theo gave an exasperated sigh and kissed him.

“Yes. Now do you want to watch Episode VI?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

~~~

“I think there’s something weird going on.”

Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear, frowned at it slightly and then returned it to his ear, laughing as he did so.

“What?”

“Listen to what you just said.”

“I’m coming over.”

Theo turned up at Stiles’ house in record time and Stiles suddenly realised he didn’t actually know where Theo lived. They never went to his house. Maybe they should rectify that, make some sort of noise about going there next time. When Stiles called through that Theo should just come in when the door went, Theo scolded him that he needed to be more careful. 

“You need to start locking your door.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe.”

Stiles arched his eyebrow at that. He’d managed to live in this town for his entire life and he was still alive, even after the last three years’ enlightenment he’d had as to what was really going on. He didn’t think he’d be killed in his own home. In fact if he was, he’d be entirely annoyed about the situation and haunt whoever it was who killed him.

“You’re human.”

“I know.”

“So you need to be more careful.”

“I can look after myself.

“I just, I couldn’t bear it if…” Theo cut himself off, looking away as he did so.

“Theo,” Stiles started, walking towards him.

“Just, just be careful.” Theo said quietly, looking up.

Stiles nodded, his face showing just how much the admission meant to him. It was almost too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel, Theo thought.

“So what’s the new threat?” Stiles asked, breaking the moment which threatened to move from cute to awkward.

“There’s people going missing.”

“Yeah, I know, the Dread Doctors.”

“No, I don’t think it’s them.”

Theo led Stiles to the couch, pulling one leg under himself so he could look at Stiles head on. He was amused to note that Stiles mirrored his position.

“There’s a second set of people going missing? Brilliant.”

“It’s a bit complicated; but as far as I can make out…”

Stiles stood then, eliciting a confused frown from Theo.

“Follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs.”

It was Theo’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Down soldier, not like that.”

Stiles couldn’t help the rush of feeling he got when Theo jumped to that conclusion. He didn’t think it was entirely lust, the fact that Theo was thinking about it as well made him feel warm inside. It was like he was finally connecting with someone again, like he finally had a link to another person again.

When he entered his room, he resisted the urge to tidy up, knowing full well Theo would laugh at him and it would be deserved, he didn’t have anything to hide from his...Boyfriend. The word still seemed foreign, even in his own head; and he knew it would be a while before he’d be able to say it out loud, if he ever could. 

The memory of his Dad finding him outside of Jungle and telling him he couldn’t possibly be gay, surfaced and he smiled. He supposed his Dad was right in a way, he clearly wasn’t totally gay, his relationship with Malia an obvious nod to the heterosexual side of him. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to label himself anyway. He was Stiles and that was Theo and actually that seemed to be enough for now.

He rubbed off some of the more obscure theories on his murder board, as well as Theo’s name which was circled in a corner. Theo raised his eyebrow again when he noticed it; but didn’t say anything. Stiles was grateful for that, he wasn’t sure what he’d say. He had clearly been wrong about Theo’s character and explaining why he’d thought he wasn’t who he said he was seemed redundant now; especially in light of recent events.

He handed the chinograph pencil to Theo.

“Go mad.”

Theo laughed. “You do this a lot?”

“Don’t knock it, it works.”

After a few minutes of furious writing, Theo stepped back, looking at the scattered spider diagram that he’d drawn, turning into a flowchart in places. It looked a mess; but actually showed an accurate timeline as to what he thought was going on.

“Definitely something going on.” Stiles said after reading the board, standing next to Theo.

“Told you.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

Theo shrugged. “I thought we’d look into it. We’ve got enough trouble with the Dread Doctors and I don’t think the police will be able to handle this one. No offence.”

“None taken. Dad might know what’s going on now; but Parrish and him can’t deal with every supernatural case that comes along. They’d have to lie too much to the other deputies and they’re stretched enough as it is. It’s a good job we don’t have much actual crime in Beacon Hills.”

“What’s Parrish got to do with it?”

“Oh crap, sorry. I have just _got_ to stop supernaturally outing people.”

Theo just laughed and clapped Stiles on the shoulder.

“Hey, the secret’s safe with me. You can trust me.”

Stiles slipped his hand into Theo’s still staring at the board. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not convinced by the huge amount of dialogue in this chapter. Have I mentioned how much I hate writing dialogue?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta, J, is amazing and deserves all the balloons and confetti.

Stiles and Theo crept around the corner of the abandoned warehouse, Stiles trying to be as careful as possible where he trod, knowing his clumsiness could cost them the element of surprise.

“You sure you want to do this?” Theo asked, stopping and whispering so quietly Stiles could barely hear him.

Stiles gave him an incredulous look, after nearly banging into him. “You’re asking me this _now_?”

“Better now than in 5 minutes time when you won’t have a chance to change your mind.”

Stiles just clapped Theo on the shoulder in response, moving off again – this time with him in the lead. Theo smiled, following Stiles’ lithe form around the second corner. 

When they reached the door, Stiles echoed Theo’s question back to him. Theo just grinned and threw the sliding door open.

The warehouse was vast and dusty, creaks and groans of the old building immediately apparent as soon as they walked inside. It didn’t seem to be anyone there; but Theo knew that wasn’t the case. He could smell the creature and he knew there was nowhere it could hide.

He gestured for Stiles to go right and he started off to the left. 

Stiles grabbed his hand, stopping him before he could move off. He pulled him in for a quick kiss and then walked off without another glance. Theo smiled and checked himself when he realised it was a genuine one. He needed to keep on mission, remind himself this was a means to an end; not a budding teenage romance.

A crash from the other side of the warehouse brought his attention back to the situation at hand and he ran in the direction, noting Stiles’ change of direction too.

Stiles hefted his baseball bat, holding it in two hands, one at the handle and another half way up the shaft. He’d be ready to swing if needed, not entirely sure what they were walking into. They thought it was only a single Wendigo; but it could well be a family, like the last time they’d crossed paths with them. Stiles tried hard not to think about the descriptions he’d been given about the animalistic behaviour; the prospect of walking into a charnel house, making him sick already just with his imagination. Could Wendigos crunch bones with their teeth as well? Would there be anything left of the victims?

Theo stopped behind a rusty piece of machinery, gesturing for Stiles to join him.

“It’s behind that corner.” He said, waving his arm slightly behind him.

“Okay.”

“It’s going to be bad.”

“Okay.”

“I can smell blood.”

“Okay.”

“Stiles, you with me?” Theo asked, wondering whether he’d pushed too fast, too soon. He didn’t need Stiles having any sort of panic attack in the middle of a dangerous situation. He couldn’t fight off a Wendigo and look after Stiles at the same time.

“Let’s do this.” Stiles replied, sounding far braver than he felt.

Theo grabbed his arm before he could move, noticing the slight shift in his movement that spoke to his decision.

“Stiles.”

“I’m okay, honestly.”

Stiles leant across and kissed Theo again quickly on the lips, then moved off again before Theo could raise any more issues. They’d done all of the research, now it was time to act.

Theo wasn’t prepared for what he saw, even knowing what he’d been expecting, he still wasn’t prepared for it.

Set up in the centre of a circle of light, almost as if it was spot lit for that reason, was a gurney. All around it were stains of what could only be blood - the metallic taste in the air obvious even to Stiles’ human senses. 

There was no-one strapped to it. Now they were closer, they could see leather straps all up and down the length of the gurney, straps that were clearly there for one reason and one reason only, to hold down whomever was the current prey of these monsters.

Stiles shuddered, his shoulders set. His resolve was now total, any doubts he’d had about dealing with this problem humanely went out the window. This was not something which could be dealt with humanely, this was a monster, pure and simple and it needed to be taken down.

They crept further into the warehouse, skirting the gurney. As Stiles got closer, he saw surgical instruments set on a table with wheels. Immediately, he worried about how sterile they were, concerned for the victim’s health. He nearly laughed out loud then, it wasn’t as if the prey was going to be worried about infection, they’d be dead.

“Stay with me Stiles.” Theo whispered, turning round.

”That obvious?” Stiles whispered back.

“Only to me.” Theo replied, winking.

Carrying on, noting the warehouse was absolutely huge, they finally heard the sounds of what seemed to be a football game. The boys shared a quizzical look; but carried onwards towards the sound which seemed so out of place and human in the derelict warehouse.

They finally found a mezzanine floor, the light of a TV flickering obviously on the half-floor above them. There was a set of metal stairs leading up to it. 

Stiles shrugged and started to move towards them.

Theo grabbed his arm and shook his head, pulling him backwards so he could go first.

Stiles smiled, finding the protectiveness very sweet, if misplaced. He was pleased Theo was walking away from him because he was fairly sure he was blushing as well. They traversed the rickety staircase, careful to hold the railing and step quietly. There were a couple of loud creaks which caused them to pause; but they had clearly been drowned out by the football game. When they were close enough to peer over the edge of the floor, they saw a living room.

It had a rug on the floor, a couple of chairs and even a beanbag. The TV in the centre of the mezzanine was quite large and plugged in by a black cable which snaked off into the darkness.

Stiles looked over to Theo, arching his eyebrow. Theo nodded; and they walked up the final steps and towards the figure sitting in the armchair closest to the TV. Stiles had the bat at the ready; and Theo’s claws had dropped, though he hadn’t changed entirely.

Of course it didn’t work out as well as they’d hoped. 

Hefting the bat, Stiles was about to strike the figure on the head; when he felt an almighty crack on the back of his own head. Just before darkness descended, he laughed about the irony of it.

~~~

Stiles awoke slumped against something hard. He assessed his injuries before he opened his eyes. The back of his head was thumping; but otherwise he seemed remarkably fine, his previous injuries notwithstanding. He cracked an eye open and immediately wished he hadn’t. The world swam and his stomach flipped.

Taking a few deep breaths; and still not moving, lest the creatures realise he was awake; he tried to open an eye again. This time the world tilted slightly but righted itself quickly. He couldn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity, although he noted with some trepidation that they were downstairs again, in the spotlight. With the torture equipment. Which was just _great_.

Opening both his eyes and sitting up slightly taller, he noticed that the once empty gurney was now occupied. By Theo. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

Before he had a chance to take action on this awful development, he heard footsteps. He closed his eyes again, leaving a small crack so that he could see. 

A man walked in. He looked perfectly ordinary. Normal height, normal build, short brown hair. He didn’t look like a monster; except he was walking around Theo like he was the most interesting thing in the world, poking and prodding him. 

Theo was still asleep. 

Stiles didn’t know what they’d done to him; but whatever it was, it meant he was helpless and it was up to Stiles to save them both. That thought didn’t scare him. Much. 

When the man picked up a knife and advanced on Theo, Stiles clutched his hand into a fist to stop him moving. He couldn’t see what was happening, the man had his back to him; but he could guess. The thought made him sick. 

“This one isn’t human!” The man shouted into the darkness. 

"What do you mean he isn’t human?” A voice shouted back, footsteps coming closer. 

"I mean, He’s. not. human. Look!”

The man moved to the Theo’s head and to Stiles’ horror, he saw the man drag a wicked looking knife all the way down Theo’s strapped arm. 

Stiles almost leapt to his feet then; but he knew he couldn’t, knew he had to wait for the right time to do this. He’d only have one shot. 

Stiles couldn’t see from the vantage point that he was in but Theo clearly healed as his kind did. He didn’t need to see it to know what had happened; and to know that these creatures wouldn’t want to eat Theo. They only ate humans, which meant he was going to be strapped to that table himself soon if he didn’t do something. 

He moved slowly, so slowly that his brain was screaming at him to move, that this was urgent, that he was killing Theo himself as sure as it was his own hand stabbing that knife into him. 

“I’ll go and get some more!” The second voice said, belonging to the much larger man. 

Stiles was pleased that he wasn’t going to have to fight him; but worried that this meant more people were likely to be taken. Theo and he really needed to stop these guys. Finally, he was able to reach up behind him and pull down a wicked looking scalpel. He touched it to the pad on his forefinger and it immediately drew a bead of blood. 

He stood very slowly, hoping against hope that the other guy had gone; hoping that this guy wasn’t good at some form of martial art; hoping that whatever they’d done to keep Theo sedated was something that would wear off. 

Stiles didn’t know what it was that tipped the man off, maybe he could smell his blood; but he spun around, swinging the knife as he did so. Stiles was far enough away that it didn't do a huge amount of damage; but close enough that his T-shirt was ripped and a thin line of blood appeared on his chest. 

“Now, _you’re_ human. Aren’t you? I can smell it on you.” 

“Better than being a Wendigo.” Stiles replied, cursing his apparent inability to be polite to the horrible monsters who were trying to eat him. 

The creatures teeth dropped down, as if prompted by Stiles’ words; and he pounced, all traces of humanity gone. Stiles slashed with the scalpel, ducking and weaving to try to keep the teeth from tearing into him. 

The creature bit a chunk off his forearm and he screamed, stabbing the scalpel into the meat of its shoulder and pulling it out again, causing a spurt of blood to form. Good, he’d hit an artery, that would slow the thing down. 

When the creature stepped back, Stiles attempted to free one of Theo’s hands from the buckles holding him down. He never took his eyes off the creature as he did so. 

“You should be stabbing him too. He’s not human either.” 

“He’s _twice_ the human you are.” Stiles replied and this time it was him who lunged, plunging the scalpel into roughly the same spot again. The creature screamed, lashing out with its arms and gnashing its teeth. 

Stiles could hear movement behind him; but he daren’t look. He hoped that it was Theo finally waking up, hoped that it wasn’t the sound of his imminent death. 

They circled each other. The creature picking up another knife from a table as he did so; this one had a serrated edge and Stiles knew that it would be hell if it managed to get into him. He wasn’t sure what made him do it; but when the creature lunged again, he side-stepped it just in time, causing it to continue onwards on its journey. 

It stopped short right next to the gurney, thrashing on something Stiles couldn’t see. He walked over to the creature, curious as to why it had stopped. He gave it a wide enough birth that it couldn’t lash out at him with the knife; but he noticed when he got there that the knife had been dropped on the floor. 

“Stiles! Now!” 

Theo was wrist deep into the midriff of the creature, his claws thrust in; and he was holding on, gouging out the creatures insides, blood running down his arm.

Stiles didn’t need any further prompting, he plunged the scalpel again and again into the creatures back until it stopped moving and the only thing keeping it standing was Theo. 

He was covered in blood, some of it was his, some of it was the creature’s; but all of it was triumphant. They’d done it, they’d saved another bunch of people from being killed. 

The euphoria was total, he felt like he was floating.

“Stiles?” Theo asked, bringing him back down to Earth. “A little help?” 

Stiles moved the body off Theo’s hand, causing a squelching noise to form when it was released. The body slumped to the floor when he dropped it. 

He furiously undid all of the buckles on Theo’s restraints, checking him for injuries as he did so. He was covered in blood and he didn’t know whether it was his or the creatures. He was almost crying with the urgency of checking him over. 

Theo sat up and reached for his boyfriend. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles continued to search him, his face, his chest, running his hands all over his body. 

"Stiles!” 

Stiles looked up then, staring straight into Theo’s eyes. 

“Stiles, I’m okay. It’s over.” 

Stiles fell into his arms and hugged him for a long time. 

“I need a shower.” Theo said eventually. 

“Me, too.” Stiles replied, his thoughts going to the prospect of them showering together. 

“I think we should go to mine, your Dad probably wouldn’t take kindly to this.” He gestured at them both. There was very little of either of them that wasn’t at least partially splattered with blood. 

“Good idea.” Stiles was aware enough to be excited that this would be the first time he’d been to Theo’s house. 

He smiled, leaning over to steal a kiss; which Theo returned hungrily. Stiles thought he could taste blood; and he didn't know if it was his, Theo's or the creatures; and he wasn't sure he even cared. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Stiles whispered into Theo’s lips when he pulled away slightly. 

“You, too.” Theo answered. He jumped off the gurney and dragged Stiles towards the exit, their hands still clasped together. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J, you are some sort of star and your cheerleading and editing is so massively appreciated, I don't think you understand.

“So I thought we’d do ‘Back to the Future’ tonight. It _is_ October 2015 after all. Where’s my hoverboard though; that’s what I’d like to know!”

Stiles walked away from the front door and into the living room, assuming Theo was following. He knew he started conversations as if people had joined in the middle of them; but that was just his way and he knew Theo found it funny, so he saw no reason to stop.

“Stiles.”

He spun around, almost losing his footing. That wasn’t Theo’s voice. He was speechless, something that didn’t happen very often.

“Peter?” He whispered; wondering whether he’d started hallucinating again. It would be a pretty cruel hallucination; it immediately undid all the hard work he’d done to try and forget. “Are you…”

Peter took a step towards Stiles and Stiles took a step back.

A hurt look crossed Peter’s face; and Stiles was immediately angry.

“You _left_ , Peter.” And that wasn't what he'd meant to say at all. He didn't want to open that can of worms; didn't even want to be having this conversation - even if it turned out to be unreal. He'd done too good a job of burying it to bring it all up again now.

“Well, you lot all put me in Eichen House.” Peter replied sardonically.

“You tried to kill everyone! _Again_!”

Peter rolled his eyes and stepped forward again, closing the gap slightly. “Not you though, never you.”

Stiles sighed, exasperated. “What do you _want_ then, Peter?” Because there was always _something_ he wanted. Nothing was ever free with Peter Hale, no interaction forged without some angle that he was working.

“Right now? I want to know what’s going on.”

“You want to know…” Stiles laughed. “You want to know what’s going on? Well I don’t know! There’s these creepy doctors running around, taking teenagers and turning them into monsters. Actually, they’re probably just taking a page out of your book. If the experiments fail, they bleed silver blood and die horribly. Oh; and we’ve got a Hellhound stealing the bodies and we have no idea why yet. That enough?”

Peter ignored the sarcasm and simply replied, “So, why aren’t you sorting that out? Why are you here?”

Stiles bit back another sarcastic response, suddenly very tired with all of this.

“That’s not the only supernatural thing going on. Other stuff needs sorting, too.”

Peter looked around the hallway, as if people we were going to materialise from the woodwork. “Where is everyone? Where are all your annoying little cohorts?”

“Dealing with said ‘Dread Doctors’.”

“So you’re doing all this extra stuff on your own?”

Peter knew he wasn’t, could smell a foreign odour on his soulmate, knew it belonged to something. It smelled faintly of werewolf; but it wasn’t quite right - Were-Something, though. He wanted to see if Stiles would confirm it; whether he had thrown away what they had the moment he was out of sight.

“No.” Stiles said carefully. “No, Theo and I have been on it.”

“Theo?”He wanted to ask _what_ he was; but managed to change it to “Who’s that?”

“Yeah, he’s an…well, he’s sort of an old friend.”

Peter just raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

“He’s someone we knew in Elementary School. He moved away; but he’s back now.”

“And it didn’t strike you as odd that he turned up the moment these ‘Dread Doctors’ did?”

Stiles smiled. One of the things he loved about Peter was his cynicism; which often mirrored Stiles’ own. It’s what made them – what _used_ to make them – a good team.

“To begin with, yes.”

“So…”

“So what, Peter? He proved his loyalty; and I’m not concerned about him anymore.”

Peter changed tack. “What you’re doing, Stiles…it’s…” He didn’t quite know how to phrase it.

Stiles jumped in. “Necessary? Productive? Helpful? Hopeful?” The staccato words were thrown as barbs, who was Peter to tell him what he could and couldn’t do? He lost that right a long time ago.

“I was going to say: ‘Dangerous’. You shouldn’t…”

Stiles’ voice was dangerously low, a tone he hadn’t realised he could employ before now. He spoke through gritted teeth.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Peter.”

“I’m not trying to.”

Stiles turned away, walking fully into the living room and slouching in an arm chair. It was the safest bet. It meant that Peter couldn’t sit next to him. He’d accepted him as real now; and he didn’t trust himself to be close enough to touch him. He could feel the temptation returning even as the anger rose within him.

“Well?” Stiles asked after a minute.

Peter, who had been leaning on the door frame, entered the living room and sat gingerly on the sofa. He was sitting almost off the edge, turned sideways to be able to look at Stiles.

Now he was closer, Peter could smell blood on Stiles, his own as well as blood he couldn’t recognise. It wasn’t the same smell as the thing he’d been picking up on Stiles earlier. Just who had Stiles taken to hanging out with?

“You’re injured.”

It wasn’t a question, Peter knew he was. Stiles knew he knew he was. 

“Yeah.” Stiles replied noncommittally.

“Stiles, I’m trying to have a conversation with you here.”

“And I’m trying to tell you I don’t care.”

“That’s not what your heart’s saying.”

“Go to hell, Peter.”

The doorbell rang again. Stiles’ “come in” was joined by a “we’re busy” from Peter.

Stiles gave Peter a look of such disdain, Peter almost moved backwards. Almost.

Theo could smell the anger, betrayal and small hints of lust in the living room before he’d even got there. Sitting on the sofa, as close to Stiles as he could get without actually sitting on the armchair Stiles never sat in, was a man.

He was nice to look at it, in a ruggedly handsome sort of way and he was clearly possessive over Stiles; but he was also a werewolf so Theo’s body went on high alert even before he thought it should.

“Stiles.” Theo said carefully. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Stiles replied. “Peter was just leaving.”

“No, I wasn’t. We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you Peter.” Stiles replied, turning away.

Theo hadn’t moved from the doorway, ready to pounce if he needed to; but giving Stiles the space if he needed it. The last thing he needed was to drive a wedge between him and Stiles now he’d made so much progress.

“You heard him.” Theo said, keeping his eyes on the new man and a periphery on Stiles.

The guy unfolded from where he was sitting and stalked towards Theo. _Alpha_ , he thought. Great. Now he had an angry Alpha to deal with as well. That was just great. 

“I’ll be back.” Peter tossed over his shoulder, staring down Theo as he walked past him, sniffing as he did so. It was definitely this kid who was smothered all over Stiles.

“Can’t wait.” Theo replied, not backing down from the stare. This guy could want Stiles all he wanted, he wasn’t getting him.

When the front door closed, Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Theo walked over, pulling him to his feet and enveloping him in a hug. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles extracted himself; but still held on to Theo. He dipped his head down slightly and kissed Theo languorously, savouring the uncomplicated relationship he had now.

“No, I want to curl up on the sofa and watch ‘Back to the Future’.”

“Thought you’d never ask!” Theo replied, jumping the sofa to get the soda, chips and dip.

Peter just watched from outside, saw the easy way they were with each other; and listened to the skip in Stiles’ heart every time Theo kissed him.

This Theo kid needed to be taken down. No-one was allowed to skip Stiles’ heart but him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to my wonderful beta, J, as well as my awesome cheerleader I. I also seem to have picked up another two cheerleaders, J and C as well, so thanks to them too!
> 
> ~~~
> 
>  **THERE IS SOME DUB-CON IN THIS CHAPTER. Please be safe, people**.

After his failed attempt at a conversation at Stiles’ own house, he hoped to get him somewhere alone to have a proper chat.

Peter went to Scott’s house first. It was logical that Stiles would be there; and Peter was nothing if not logical.

There were the usual scents of Scott and his mum; and he idly wondered how she managed to smell so wonderful all the time. There was a faint hint of Stiles’ scent but nothing like what the McCall house normally smelt of. It was confusing; because Peter had never seen Scott and Stiles apart. It had actually made it quite difficult to find them separately with their scents so intermingled.

He watched Scott through the window for some time; but no scrawny, bouncing, friend arrived on the scene and no phone calls were made. Peter’s frown deepened and he instead decided to try a new location.

The loft proved to have even less of a Stiles scent than Scott’s house, although it had several new ones. He filed that information away for later use and started to become concerned. If he hadn’t even been to the group meeting place, Stiles had been telling the truth; him and this _creature_ Theo really had gone off on their own. Was Stiles being held hostage? Was Theo blackmailing him in some way? 

Peter could think of absolutely no reason why Stiles would be apart from Scott, unless this Theo thing was involved. He was getting to the bottom of this if he had to follow Stiles around day and night to do it.

~~~

“You can't just follow me around, Peter.” 

Stiles was exasperated, it was like having a particularly annoying pet which wouldn't leave you alone. He'd known Peter was following him for a little while now; and he'd finally turned around to address the problem head on.

“I can; and I will continue to do so until you start taking your safety seriously.”

“I'm walking to school, Peter!”

Peter seemed to mull over this for a few seconds, as if trying to work out what was wrong with the sentence. Eventually it clicked.

“Where’s the Jeep?”

“It’s in the shop.”

“I’ll be driving you from now on.”

“No.” Stiles bit out. “You won’t.” Stiles paused, getting angrier as the conversation wore on. “How much trouble do you think I can get in in broad daylight?”

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Peter replied in a maddeningly practical voice.

Stiles huffed; but didn't argue anymore. There wasn't any point really, Peter wouldn't listen; it was best to just ignore him. He turned away from him and continued walking in the direction of the school, pulling his rucksack straps up as he did so.

Just before they got to the building, they passed an alley that they had, on numerous occasions, had a tryst in.

Stiles' heartbeat rose; and Peter took that as a good sign, pushing Stiles lightly in that direction.

Stiles hit the wall, _the_ wall; and a hundred different memories crashed in all at once. 

_Peter kissing him for the first time, all nervous and tentative, Stiles having to take control._  
_Peter running his hands up beneath his shirt, tweaking a nipple and making him gasp into his mouth; realising that having his nipples played with was a huge turn on._  
_Peter pinning him to the wall, his wrists above his head as he slowly ground his crotch into his own; Peter making him beg for further contact._  
_Peter dropping to his knees, swallowing Stiles whole, humming against his cock and causing Stiles to moan in ways he hadn't he even realised he could._  
_Feeling so debauched in the alley, where anyone could walk past; but not caring because all he wanted was this, forever._  
_Peter holding him tight and just kissing him, worshipping him, being with him, loving him._

He knew he should be pushing him away, stopping what he knew now was inevitable; but his body didn't seem to be co-operating. He was too lost in the past to care too much about what was happening in the present.

Peter's lips crashed into his own and it was like all the days they'd been apart disappeared. Stiles kissed him back hungrily, revelling in the comfort, safety and familiarity of the gesture.

Peter's hands roved all across his body; and Stiles found his own hands gripped behind his ex-lover, pulling him closer. Peter stopped all his ministrations, cupping Stiles' face in his hands and just looking at him, Stiles saw such raw love there it made him dizzy. He thought Peter looked like he was going to say something; but he didn't.

The moment was over almost as soon as it had begun. 

Peter attacked Stiles mouth again with renewed fervour; and Stiles let him, lost in the sensations, unable to form a coherent argument as to why he should stop. 

When Peter pinned Stiles' wrists above him, the rough brickwork pressing into his hands, Stiles moaned and started to struggle. He couldn't have said in that moment if he was truly struggling to get away - and there were certainly parts of his body that didn't _want_ him to get away - but at the same time, the familiarity now reminded him of all the hurt he'd felt when Peter left. He remembered studiously avoiding even looking in the _direction_ of the alley for months, remembered all the songs he could no longer listen to, all the films which had been forever ruined. He didn't want that again, couldn't go through that again. It hurt too much. 

He was about to tell Peter to stop; but then Peter palmed him through his jeans and all rational thought went out the window.

“That's it, Stiles. You love it when I pin you down, don't you? Love it when you lose control, love it when you can't stop me from pleasing you, over and over.”

Stiles whimpered, the need for Peter going into overdrive. Peter was still touching him, pressing the heel of his hand into his crotch, making him gasp. He knew anything he said about not wanting this would be a lie. He knew Peter would be able to hear his heartbeat, knew Peter would be able to smell his arousal.

Peter stole another kiss, pressing Stiles' hands down harder against the brickwork, unbuttoning Stiles' fly as he did so. He opened it maddeningly slowly and Stiles found himself panting with the need of it.

When Peter finally touched him, all thought left Stiles. There was only this, only this moment, only this time.

Peter continued to kiss Stiles, sometimes moving down to kiss his neck; all the while stroking him, coaxing him to the brink of orgasm and then stopping. He allowed Stiles to calm down only long enough for him to touch him again, stopping just short every time. Playing him like a fiddle, using his supernatural talents to coax almost continuous moans from his partner.

Stiles had his eyes shut, his head resting against the wall, a litany of broken words coming from his mouth when it wasn't occupied by Peter's tongue. 

Peter knew he could keep Stiles on edge like this for hours, had on a few occasions; but this was a school day and he didn't want Stiles to be late. So, far sooner than he would have normally liked, he stroked Stiles to the inevitable conclusion.

When Stiles came back down from the dizzying heights of orgasm, the reality of what had happened crashed in.

“Oh God.” Stiles exclaimed, putting himself away, wondering how he was going to get in to school and clean himself up without anyone seeing him.

“Just Peter is fine.”

Stiles shot him a look of such loathing Peter almost retreated. “That was. Oh God, I am _such_ an idiot. You need to get out of here.”

“Fine by me, I wouldn't want you to miss First Period.”

“Screw you, Peter.”

Peter merely smiled. He was one step towards winning Stiles back, he was in his head now; and that was where the real battle for Stiles' affections would be fought. Stiles was pragmatic and he would soon see that what he had to offer far outweighed anything the odd Were-Creature did. He didn't know Stiles like he did; how could he? He'd only known him for mere moments in comparison.

Theo didn't stand a chance.


	10. Chapter 10

Breaking into a High School records office was surprisingly easy even if you _weren’t_ a werewolf.

Peter laughed when he found a labelled key, on a hook, inside an unlocked lockable cabinet, hung on a wall. It was behind the Admin Office door which itself closed; but not locked. To the school’s meagre credit, the filing cabinet _was_ locked; but considering an ordinary human could wrench those open without much force, it was a rather stupid last-ditch precaution. 

The files were labelled by surname, so he couldn’t just go directly to the file he needed. Helpfully though, the files followed the ‘Surname, First Initial’ format. He was able to go through a surprising number of Thomas’ and Timothy’s; found a Tiberious; and a shocking Thackary before he found a file named ‘Raeken, T.’. He thought Raeken sounded like a douchy name; and he wondered why he hadn’t immediately picked that one out when he’d initially skimmed through the drawers. 

The file was slim, a brief record of his attendance and grades from his previous school; and a signed form from his parents to approve the transfer to Beacon Hills High. What it _did_ have, which Peter ripped out of the folder, so quickly it partially tore, was the kid’s address. 

Peter’s claws had dropped without his conscious effort; and he stormed from the office, raking a claw-mark into the paint surrounding the door handle. It was only when he went to open his car that he noticed them and forced them to retract. He wasn’t going to scratch his car, he wasn’t an _animal_. 

~~~

Theo thought he was being followed, could periodically catch the same scent; but couldn’t place where it was coming from. It could only mean one thing: he was being tested again, he just couldn’t work out what this test meant. He knew where he could go to find out though.

“Is one of your creatures following me?” 

_“No new subjects are live at this time.”_

Theo hated the way they spoke. It seemed like the very air around you was shaking; and he still couldn’t work out whether he was hearing them with his ears or with his mind, which was disconcerting to say the least. 

“Oh I get it, it’s not for me. I’m supposed to test its powers. Fine, whatever you say.” 

_“No new subjects are live at this time.”_

Theo knew he was skirting the line between annoyance and insolence but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was tired with all of this and just wanted it over. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a secret, I get it. Nod nod wink wink.” 

_“No new…”_

Theo sighed, walking away from the Steam Punk wannabes. They might have upgraded him; but they couldn’t half be a pain in the ass sometimes. 

He stormed out of the tunnels, thinking about how frustrating it was to be the success story; beholden to them but also trusted to be a de-facto leader to a bunch of failures. He was getting tired with seeing promise in a subject and then it dying on him. All the wasted time grated on him, he had more important things to be getting on with. It wasn’t even like he couldn’t understand why it was happening, he was totally on board in that regard; he just didn’t want anything to do with it at the same time - which was confusing. He caught the scent again about half-way home and he ducked into a side alley, hoping to catch the stalker. He waited for 20 minutes and when no-one walked past, he gave up and went home, annoyed he’d wasted yet more of his time. 

~~~ 

“I have had _the_ worst day.” 

Theo smiled, then caught himself and schooled his features into a more conservative visage, flopping onto his bed as he did so. 

“What’s up?” 

“It was nothing really, just one thing after another, you know? Nothing went right. I was late because…actually I have no idea, I was sort of on Wikipedia and there was this interesting article on…actually I can’t remember what it was on, doesn’t matter anyway…then my locker wouldn’t open and I swore I didn’t change the combination…only I might have done because of that stupid balloon prank Scott played when…” 

Theo felt the anxiety descend, even though there was no way he could detect Stiles’ mood from across town. It didn’t take a genius to see he was still hurting; and stumbling across Scott’s name in conversation never failed to floor him. 

The pause was just a second too long to be a breath; when Stiles started talking again, Theo cut him off. 

“Do you want me to come over?” 

Stiles paused before replying. Theo could imagine what was going through his head, knew he was weighing up wanting him there versus actually expressing it. 

“Well, I mean, it’s late…and you’re probably already settled in; and of course we’ve got school in the mor…” 

Theo cut him off for a second time and hung up after saying he’d be straight over. 

~~~ 

Stiles whispered ‘thanks’ into his phone, dropping it to the mattress. He sunk down, throwing an arm across his eyes as he did so. 

He was so lucky to have someone who could read his mind like that; who knew when he was putting on a brave face; who would come around late at night and either listen to him rant, or play video games until he was back to normal anxiety levels again. 

He didn’t know what he would do without Theo. 

~~~ 

Theo was walking his bike down the driveway when he caught the odd scent again, lingering stronger outside his house. 

“Oh, come on! You don’t taunt your prey for this long. You _just do it_!” 

Peter stepped out from behind a tree. “Good tip.” 

Theo hadn’t been expecting _that_. 

He looked Peter up and down before responding, wondered why the werewolf was stalking him in the first place. Now he _knew_ it was a werewolf who was following him, he placed the tell-tale scent markers. He really should have worked it out sooner and he kicked himself for being so careless. 

Peter appraised the creature in front of him. His chemo signals were there; but they had an off tint to them, like photographs left too close to a window. He got no fear, just a sense of, maybe annoyance. Jesus, this kid was arrogant. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was sure now. This kid had no business being around Stiles, he just wasn’t safe. This sort of arrogance could get you killed. 

“What do _you_ want?” Theo bit out, annoyed the older man was there. He had to get to Stiles; and this interaction was going to make him late. He hated being late. 

Peter barely restrained his urge to kill. The kid actually _smirked_ at him; and he realised his own chemo signals must be betraying him. 

“I wanted to have a chat.” 

"That’s great, but could you make an appointment with my secretary? I’m kind of in a rush right now.” 

Theo mounted his bike in one fluid motion and moved slowly down the drive, pushing off the ground with his feet. 

Predictably, Peter moved to block his downward path. 

“Really?” Theo said, exasperated. 

“Really.” 

Theo dismounted, his bike crashing to the hard concrete of his driveway and bouncing slightly. 

“Alright, what?” 

“I can smell him all over you.” 

As if to confirm his statement, he deliberately inhaled again. 

“Seriously? You want to talk about your ex? Get over it, man.” 

Theo tried to move down the driveway again, picking up his bike as he did so; but Peter was in his space almost immediately. 

“You stay away from Stiles.” Peter had his finger pointed at his chest, which Theo was trying really hard not to laugh at. There was poking a bear and there was _poking a bear_. 

“Or what?” Theo spat. “You going to hurt me? I’m sure that would go down really well. He’d never come back to you if you hurt me, he’d think you were a _monster_.” 

Peter backed up slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. 

“He told me about you after we met last time. About how you left, how you were never really invested in the relationship like he was, how you broke his heart. He told me how much better it was with me. How every. Little. Thing. Was just _better_.” Theo was whispering by the time he’d finished, in Peter’s space this time rather than the other way round. 

Peter reached out and wrapped a hand around his throat, squeezing slightly. 

“Easy, Old Man. An injury would be very hard to explain away when I get there; and I don’t lie to Stiles like you did.” 

Peter withdrew his hand, spun round and stormed away, his shoes clacking on the pavement. A little way down the street Theo heard a car door open and close; and then a screech of tires as it drove off at speed. 

Theo smiled. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J, I don't know how I could have written this without you. You are perfect and evil in all the right ways!

“What happened to Stiles?”

To Peter’s great delight, half the baby pack jumped when he spoke.

Walking into Derek’s old loft made him a little nostalgic; and the fact that Derek had let it out to the kids as a clubhouse was quaint beyond measure. Still, he needed something from them so he wasn’t going to be swept up in the past.

“What do you mean?”

Scott was an idiot. He was a full-blown _idiot_. How he got to be an Alpha; and a ‘true’ one at that, was a constant surprise. It had been a thorn in Peter’s side ever since he'd had the misfortune of knowing him. 

Peter moved inside; noting the general detritus of the teens all over Derek’s once Spartan living room. He sprawled in the only remaining chair.

“Come in, why don’t you?” Lydia quipped, still legitimately mistrustful of the older man.

“Ah, Lydia,” He drawled, “So nice to see you again. I think you’ll find I have more right to be here than any of your _group_.”

Peter managed to make ‘group’ sound like an insult; and Malia bristled, growling slightly. She had got a much better handle on her animal side of late; but it still came out rather abruptly when she felt threatened.

“Now, now, _Daughter_. No need for all of that.”

Scott finally took charge of the situation, which Peter found just adorable.

“What do you _want_ , Peter?” Scott asked, momentarily stunned by the fact that Peter Hale was apparently alive, fine and standing in Derek's loft; and not, as he had thought, still locked up in Eichen House.

“What do I want? I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing?”

“What are we…”

“Yes, Scott.” Peter interrupted. “I want to know what you’re doing, letting Stiles run off and into danger like that! You know he’s no match for what’s out there. That bat isn’t going to protect him from a non-human threat; and even then he’d have to be lucky to take down a murderous human.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Peter?”

“What am I…” Peter dragged his hands through his hair and stood up in one fell swoop. Moving towards the kitchen, he took a moment to compose himself. Pulling down a bottle of Scotch from the top of one of the cabinets, he got a glass out of a cupboard and poured a hefty measure. Drinking it down, he slammed the glass on the counter, causing it to crack.

How could these teens be so stupid? What could possibly be more important than Stiles’ safety? Why were they wilfully ignoring the trouble he was in? Were they doing it on purpose? Did they _want_ Stiles to die? The only reason he’d backed off was because he thought Scott, even though he was an idiot, could protect Stiles. He’d sworn that they were best friends, that they were brothers, that he’d never let anything happen to him; but he had clearly been lying this whole time, clearly playing him.

Peter didn’t like being played.

He leapt across the loft, picking Scott up from the chair he was in and slamming him against a support beam.

Everyone else stood; but when it became apparent Peter wasn’t actually going to rip Scott apart, they stayed back.

“Peter, what…” Scott said, slightly winded, his claws dropping in response to the threat.

“Shut up, Scott.” Peter said, letting him go, his rage subsiding as soon as it had appeared. He may end up needing them, he couldn’t kill them all yet.

Peter backed off, moving away towards the windows so that he could pace.

“We need to work out a way to get Stiles away from that madman. We need to get him to safety.”

“Peter, I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! Would you just stop talking in odd sentences and tell us what’s happening? What do you mean that Stiles is in danger?”

Peter forced himself to stay calm; forced himself to take a few deep breathes before he turned to the clueless children; forced himself to not tear them all limb from limb for their callous disregard for someone they purportedly called a friend.

“Stiles is running around Beacon Hills trying to solve Supernatural cases.”

“He’s doing _what_?” Lydia asked, voice rising to a high pitch.

“You really are all totally clueless, aren’t you? Look around you! Did you really think all other supernatural threats were going to stop just because you had to deal with these ‘Doctors’? Weren’t you a bit surprised there was nothing happening? Did you think Stiles was in the bathroom this whole time? Did you think he’d merely forgotten about your Secret Squirrel meetings? Were you confused as to whether he was your friend and thought he’d just moved away? Did he graduate high school early and go to college without you? Did you just fall out of touch? DID YOU JUST DECIDE THAT YOU DIDN’T CARE ABOUT HIS SAFETY ANYMORE? DID YOU WANT HIM TO _DIE_?”

“Now, hang on a minute, Peter…” 

“No, you ‘hang on a minute’, Malia. Your blatant disregard for this safety could get him killed. I don’t like any of you; but I didn’t think you were this malicious. You prance about in your self-righteous way, say that _I’m_ the bad guy; and then you drop someone who you have a collective 20 years of friendship with. Excuse _me_ for wanting to know WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!”

They all looked shifty at this, no-one responding to Peter, none of them looking him in the eyes. Something had clearly happened, something they didn’t want to discuss. Well, he wasn’t having that, he didn’t care if they’d sworn to all that was holy that they wouldn’t tell a soul, they were telling him. They were going to tell him if he had to torture every last one of them. 

He thought he’d start with Kira, she looked nice and breakable.

“We…” Lydia started and Peter rounded on her, eyes blazing blue. She swallowed; but drew herself up to her full, still short, height and looked him dead in the eye. “We haven’t really been speaking to Stiles lately. We were trying to give him some space. So, er, no…we didn’t know he was in danger.”

“So you’re giving him space for something; but _why_ if he was in danger, would he not reach out to you? If you’re the ones giving _him_ the space and he therefore was coming back to you when he’s ready, then why didn’t he? If he was having this much trouble, why didn’t he call?”

There was another silence, in which Peter’s wolf tried hard to rise to the surface, the anger bubbling up again. He put a leash on it; but only barely.

“Lydia, what aren’t you telling me?” He growled.

She paused, eyes flicking over to Scott. 

Peter turned to him just as he gave a minute nod to Lydia. Peter filed that away for future reference, turning back to the girl in front of him.

“So?”

“Okay, so it wasn’t just us giving him space.” She paused again; and Peter barely resisted the urge to pounce. 

Lydia must have felt the slight change in his demeanour because she rushed onwards. “We…he isn’t talking to us because we didn’t support him about something.”

“Go on…”

“We didn’t, that is to say…there was.”

“Oh, for love of God, Lydia!” Malia interjected. “Stiles killed someone. Theo told us he’d murdered him. It was actually self-defence. Stiles thinks we don’t trust him anymore. Stiles doesn’t want to talk to us because he’s hurt. We’re giving him space until he’s feeling better.”

Lydia winced; but secretly thought Malia’s level of tact was warranted in this situation. Peter needed the facts and Malia putting it so succinctly was actually pretty helpful.

Peter was barely containing his rage.

“ _Theo_ was the one who told you the lie about Stiles?”

“Yes.” Scott said, walking closer to Peter. He could see the bristling of his shoulders; knew that he was on the brink of an angry outburst and wasn’t sure whether it would be physical or mental.

“So, what is Stiles doing _with_ Theo?”

“Stiles is with Theo?” Scott said, startled.

“Yes, Scott.” Peter said patiently, surprised he even had any patience left. Then again, talking to Scott was like talking to a 3-year-old, you had to spell everything out slowly. You couldn't be upset with a 3-year-old for being a 3-year-old. “He is. Now how are we going to get him back?”

“We?”

“Hey, I don’t want to work with you either."

Scott smiled.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Scott; this is about Stiles; not you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Beta is great  
> I have a Cheerleader too  
> I am very blessed

Scott had finally convinced Peter to let him speak with Stiles on his own, rather than go in with all of them, guns blazing. It had taken a considerable amount of time to do so. It was only when Scott said that this was the safest way to do it if Stiles _was_ being held hostage, that Peter acquiesced.

He couldn’t remember having ever rang the doorbell at the Stilinski household; but Scott didn’t feel able to just walk in anymore either. Waiting on the porch, the twenty seconds it took for Stiles to answer the door seemed like an age. Not that he was counting the seconds, because that would be stupid; and Scott wasn’t nervous. At all.

Stiles opened the door cautiously. His Dad had a key and Theo (and apparently now Peter) would just walk in, so he was a little confused as to who may be ringing the bell. He was coming up with another hilarious reason as to why he couldn’t convert to being a Jehovah’s Witness; when he was momentarily flawed by a sheepish Scott standing on his doorstep.

Scott had never rung the doorbell in his life and Stiles was surprised to find he wasn’t sure how to take that information. Did this mean that Scott thought so little of him that they were reduced to acquaintances now?

They stared at each other for an awkward moment, before Stiles opened the door further. Scott faltered a second and then stepped over the threshold, hovering in the hallway.

“Soda?” Stiles asked after another, too long, pause.

“Yeah.” Scott replied.

He stayed in the hallway while Stiles went to the kitchen to get the cans. Why was this so awkward? Had thirteen years of friendship really been broken by one argument? What the hell was he going to say to Stiles anyway?

Stiles came back through from the kitchen and sat down in the living room.

Scott immediately felt hurt but quickly realised he had no right to, this was his mess and he really needed to clean it up. 

He couldn't help feeling that it seemed like a business meeting though. 

Of course they used the living room, there'd been many a movie night there; but when it was just them they ended up sprawled out in Stiles room; doing homework, or chatting. This, this was something Scott didn't know how to deal with; he'd been thrown out of his comfort zone already and they hadn't even started yet. He took the arm chair perpendicular to where Stiles was sitting anyway, sinking into the soft cushions and waiting, though what for, he wasn't sure.

Stiles opening the soda can sounded like a gunshot in the silence.

Scott followed suit, took a long drag and then put it down on the table.

“Er..” Scott started, kicking himself immediately for not working out what he was going to say in advance.

Stiles didn’t help him, which made Scott’s mood lower further. He couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t finished each other’s sentences, or helped each other out when the sentence didn’t even start in the first place.

“Er…How’ve you been?” Scott knew it was a weak opening; but he had to start somewhere.

“How’ve I _been_?”

“Yes?” Scott replied bashfully. 

Stiles was immediately angry. After everything that had happened, Scott’s first thoughts in over a fortnight were ‘How’ve you been?’?

“Screw you, Scott.”

Stiles stood, walking away from the sofa, not really knowing where he was going but needing to get away, needing to be moving. He felt, rather than saw, Scott open his mouth to respond; but he found he wasn’t nearly done with him yet.

“Screw you! How’ve I been? How have I _been_?” Stiles spun round, facing Scott. “How do you think I’ve been? My best friend basically told me our friendship was over; and I get it, I get why. I know I fucked up. I _know_ that; but it doesn’t make it any better, not when all my friends left too and I’ve had no contact with anyone at all.”

“Stiles…”

“What, Scott? What could you possibly say at this point to make this better?”

“Stiles, I…look I get why you thought you had to kill Donovan. I think if I’d been in the same position I might have done something similar. It was your Dad; and you thought you had to protect him. I just, the way you did it, that’s the thing I’m having a hard time getting my head around.”

“You don’t have to get your head around it, Scott. You’ve made your position perfectly clear; and don’t give me that bull that you’d have done the same, we both know you wouldn’t have. I’m not going to assuage your guilt by buying into your placations. It happened, we’re done. Okay?”

Scott didn’t reply immediately, mulled over his words very carefully before he did so.

“Not okay, Stiles.” He started. “Absolutely not okay. Of course we’re not done! How can we be done?”

“I think this is a pretty big hurdle to get over, Scott. We fundamentally disagree about something I did, I don’t know how you think we’re getting back from that.”

“I don’t know.” Scott sighed. “I don’t know; but I also know that we’ve been through too much for this to stop us.”

“Or maybe this is the thing which finally stops us.” Stiles whispered.

Silence descended again and both boys wondered what they were going to say next, both drawing a blank.

The silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening. Stiles turned, a grin forming on his face when he saw who it was.

Theo was carrying several brown bags, struggling to get through the door. Stiles laughed at him and immediately went forwards to catch the one that was falling, following him into the kitchen.

“I know we said we were going to order pizza; but I found this really good recipe and I really wanted to try it out.”

“So I’m your guinea pig?”

“Yeah; but if you die, I’m denying all knowledge.”

“I feel so loved right now.”

Scott listened to the banter from his seat on the sofa, surprised by Stiles’ easy manner and wary of Theo’s intentions. Stiles’ anxiety had lessened considerably when Theo had walked in. Scott tried very hard not to make that upset him; but he didn’t quite succeed.

Theo’s voice dropped. Scott found it a little amusing because if the whisper was loud enough for Stiles to hear, it would be loud enough for Scott to hear from the other room. He wondered whether Theo was doing it on purpose, putting on a show for his benefit and deliberately showing that _he_ was now Stiles' confidant. If that was the case, Theo was being just as manipulative as ever; and the pack really _did_ need to rescue Stiles from his clutches.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah? I mean, I don’t know. It’s kind of awkward.”

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, start dinner. I’ll send up a smoke signal if I need you.”

“Okay.”

Then Scott heard what he thought was a kiss and Stiles’ heartbeat rose ever so slightly.

Scott must have looked confused when Stiles walked in because Stiles was immediately on the defensive.

“What?”

“What? What?”

“Cute, Scott.” Stiles almost sneered.

Scott was at a loss for words. He was rapidly losing any control of the situation he may have had.

“What, Scott?”

“There wasn’t a ‘what’.”

Stiles sighed. “Fine.”

They lapsed into another uncomfortable silence and Scott was just wondering if it was maybe time for him to go when Stiles spoke.

“Why did you come over anyway?”

Scott quickly looked sideways towards the kitchen, not sure how much he should say when Theo was clearly able to hear them.

Stiles saw the look and bit back the response he wanted to make. Scott could dig the hole for him himself.

“Look, we’re just worried about you.”

Stiles crossed the space and sat down again, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Worried about me?”

“Well yeah, you’ve been…I mean haven’t you been fighting off Supernatural creatures recently?”

“So, what is it to yo…Oh. My. God. you’ve been talking to Peter!”

Scott looked shocked but Stiles knew that look, that was the ‘I’ve been caught but I’m trying to pretend I’m innocent’ look.

“You have! Why have you been…never mind, it doesn’t matter. I will repeat what I said to him. I can look after myself.”

“But Stiles…”

“No, Scott. You don’t get to dictate what I can and cannot do. You just don’t.”

Scott looked over towards the kitchen again, this time not hiding it. He dropped his voice lower even though he knew it would make no difference to Theo if he was eavesdropping. 

“And Theo…”

“What about Theo?”

“Theo, he’s…I mean do you trust…”

“With my life.” Stiles replied immediately. “He’s had my back a lot recently. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him.”

Scott knew he must have had a look on his face because Stiles continued again straight away.

"Oh _now_ you have a negative opinion of Theo! Are you jealous? Is that what this is? You wanted me to be your best friend forever, fighting monsters together until we were old and grey? Well things _change_ , Scott. People move in and out of your life, dependant on how they treat you. There’s nothing that can be done about that. Now I think you should leave, apparently I have dinner being prepared for me. And tell Peter…tell Peter he doesn’t own me, I can do what I please."

Scott stood up to leave and watched as Stiles walked back into the kitchen. When he was at the right angle, Scott was able to see Stiles with his arms round Theo’s waist, nuzzling his neck, while Theo stirred something on the stove. If Stiles was happy, he was truly happy for him too; but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really wrong with Theo; and Stiles’ new attitude was one which Scott hadn’t seen before. He was acting almost like he had been last year; and that wasn’t something Scott ever wanted to revisit.

No, they needed to do something to get Stiles away from Theo. He just didn’t know what that was yet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J is amazing. I, J and C are amazing. Basically I couldn't do this without their constant cheerleading.

Stiles looked up from his book, hearing a creak of the floorboards in the hallway.

"Peter, you can't keep walking into my house unannounced."

"You're not answering your phone."

"There's a reason for that." Stiles paused, lowering his book completely. "And how did you get my new number anyway?"

Peter just shrugged; and it was such a un-Peter like gesture that it floored Stiles.

He sighed, stood and walked into the kitchen. If they were going to have it out over the ‘Scott thing’ then he wasn’t going to do it without something to hold in his hands. He couldn’t trust himself not to run into the safety of his embrace if he got upset. 

"Tea, then?" He called over his shoulder.

"Milk, with..."

"I _know_ , Peter." Stiles interrupted quietly. As if he could ever forget anything about their time together. He could feel himself softening towards the older man and he resolved not to be drawn in. There lay heartache.

He watched the steam rise from the cups for a long moment after he had poured the water. He was stalling, knew that he was steeling himself for whatever it was that Peter wanted. 

Later on, he wouldn't be able to say if he'd paused because he knew what would happen; or because he really was psyching himself up for the conversation. Either way, when Peter came up behind him and placed his hands on either side of him, leaning on the counter and pressing his chest to his back; Stiles was unsurprised and actually lent into the contact.

Peter inhaled Stiles' scent. It was a scent he'd loved even before he'd actually realised he loved Stiles. It smelt of: paper and ink; anxiety and yet determination; lavender soap and camomile tea; oil and leather. It was just _Stiles_ and Peter had so missed it.

As if in a dream, Stiles turned in Peter's embrace and moved his arms so they were clasped around his waist. He pulled him slightly closer, breathing in Peter’s smell. Peter always smelt of Sandalwood and smoke. 

Stiles knew the Sandalwood was because of him. He’d loved it so much when Peter had used the shampoo at a hotel they’d been staying at, that Peter had bought the whole box of samples then and there; and then found the supplier and had a constant stream of them delivered so that he never ran out. The fact that he’d carried on using the scent after their separation was something Stiles couldn’t think too hard on, lest he start to cry. 

Stiles always found the smoke scent odd, seeing as how his family had died; but Peter always seemed to smell of Fall and bonfires whether it was that time of year or not. It was indelibly linked in Stiles’ mind and was one of the reasons why he found Fall so difficult. When they were wrapped up in a giant blanket, in front of a roaring fire, in a log cabin far out in the woods; Stiles had asked why it was. Peter had said he thought it was because the link to his family was so strong, some scent lingered. He became wistful after that, so Stiles didn’t pry further. In any case, he liked the smell.

Peter smiled at him and Stiles felt himself smiling back, lost in his memories.

This wasn't a dirty tryst in an alley, a hasty kiss in a snatched moment; this was slow, measured. They had all the time in the world. 

It wasn't perfect. 

There were no singing angels, no glitter fell from the ceiling, the countertop was digging into the back of Stiles' waist; and the tea was probably ruined.

Except, it _was_ perfect.

It was safe; it was familiar; and part of Stiles just ached for it. He ached to stay in Peter's arms, ached to be supported and strengthened by him until the end of their days. He lost himself to that part of him, revelled in it, knew that his rational brain would kick in any time now and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing. Now though, now he could have this, in this space, at this time. Now it was just them.

He let himself have the daydream, let himself remember what it was like, what he'd missed; and then he pushed Peter away.

Peter could have resisted, could have used his not inconsiderable strength to do so; but it had never been like that. When you had as many advantages over a human as he had, you had to work out how to act within them. You had to know when a push away was really a push and not just a flailing arm followed by a gasp and a throaty moan. Peter just loved it when Stiles moaned.

Peter was still standing close to Stiles. Stiles had pushed him away from the kiss; but not from his presence entirely, which Peter took to be a good sign.

"Peter..." Stiles started.

The front door opened with a bang; and Peter had to use a huge amount of self-restraint to stop himself from just killing whoever had just walked through the front door and ruined their moment. It may be the Sheriff of course; and killing him would probably put the brakes on any reconciliation with Stiles.

It wasn't the Sheriff. He’d have realised it sooner if he hadn’t been so caught up in Stiles’ intoxicating scent.

The self-satisfied smirk was the first thing Peter saw; and he once again tensed. It was the soft touch on his hip which stopped him from doing so. Stiles didn't want this kid dead, so he wouldn't kill him. Yet.

After a moment of what could have been an awkward tableau, Stiles coughed and turned back round to the kettle.

"Tea, anyone?" He asked a shade too loudly.

Theo laughed and went to stand next to Stiles, sliding an arm around his waist. 

Peter backed up slightly to give Stiles room and Theo gave him a look of triumph.

"I wouldn't count your chickens yet." Peter said, too low for Stiles to hear.

"I don't need to, I own the farm." Theo smirked, the arrogance coming off him in waves.

Peter could see the tense set to Stiles' shoulders, knew that this was awkward for him and decided to concede the battle.

He hadn't even really started with the war yet.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, the Beta and the Cheerleaders deserve all the kudos.
> 
> I have also put down a rough estimate of how many chapters there will be left. This is rough because as any of you who read 'Anything' whilst I was posting it can attest to, that jumped from 25 to 32 (when I was convinced it may even had been 22). :D - It's over when it's over; how about that?

Theo was frowning at his phone when Stiles arrived at his house. They’d gotten another lead on some Wendigos (and how ridiculous was it that suddenly there were nests of these damn things everywhere?) and were about to go and take care of them. 

“I’ve got to go.” Theo said, as soon as Stiles was in earshot.

“What?”

“I’ve got to go; we’re going to have to do this another time.”

Theo was still frowning at his phone and almost collided with Stiles who had stepped forward.

Theo stepped back, hugging his phone to him as he did so.

Stiles looked hurt. “What’s going on Theo?”

“Not now, Stiles.”

“Not now? Not _now_? You’ve got something more important than dealing with the supernatural creatures drawn by the actual beacon in Beacon Hills?”

Theo looked shifty, fidgeting under Stiles’ actually understandable ire. Stiles knew he was about to be lied to, had spent enough years gearing himself up to do the same thing Theo was about to. He just really hoped that Theo would trust him enough to tell the truth.

“I’ll be back soon. You could wait…” Theo started.

“Whatever, Theo.” Stiles started walking back to his rental.

“Don’t go on your own.”

Stiles looked back; but didn’t answer.

“I mean it Stiles, this is dangerous.”

“I’ve got somewhere _more important_ to be anyway.” Stiles bit out.

“Stiles…”

“I’ll call you later.”

Stiles got into the vehicle, slamming the door as he did so. He saw Theo take a step towards him; but then seemed to think better of it. That jerky motion was all Stiles needed. Was everyone destined to be mistrustful of him and leave?

He wasn’t sure he could manage another loss.

~~~

“What do you want?”

_“The hunt is coming.”_

“Yeah,” Theo answered sarcastically, “Didn’t we know that? What did you think we were doing here, some kind of science experiment?”

_“You will be ready.”_

“Yeah, yeah.”

_“Subject #1 is vital.”_

“I know, I’m going to ‘save the world. I’m the fricking Messiah. I’m going.”

_“Subject #1 must be ready.”_

Theo just walked out after that.

~~~

Stiles was warring with himself. 

Part of him really wanted to go on the hunt without Theo; but it was reckless and he had to admit that he needed the werewolf for backup (or, if he was honest with himself, he was the backup). He wasn’t sure where the argument left them. On the one hand it was the first argument they’d had; but on the other, it was about trust and that was such a hot-button in Stiles’ life that he wasn’t sure he could get past it.

Predictably, Peter was waiting at his house, as if the day could get any worse. 

Stiles got out of the car slowly, not wanting to seem in a rush to greet Peter. He wasn’t sure whether he was happy to see him or not, yet; and he needed the moment to gather himself.

“Not _now_ , Peter.” Apparently he wasn’t happy to see him.

“You’re upset.” 

“Thanks Sherlock for that obvious assessment.” Apparently he was actually angry with him.

“Let me…”

“Leave me alone, Peter. I can’t do this right now.”

Peter followed him into the house, where Stiles had slumped on the sofa.

“Tea?”

Stiles answered in the affirmative automatically, then groaned. He didn’t need to give Peter any more ground. 

Stiles stayed like that until Peter came back into the living room. 

Peter put the mug down on the coffee table, making sure to use a coaster. Lifting Stiles’ legs up so he could slide underneath them, he ended up sitting with Stiles' feet in his lap. Carefully, he removed Stiles’ sneakers and began to massage his feet.

“How is it that all of your tension ends up in your feet? Most people get knots in their shoulders or lower back.”

“I’m not ‘most people’.”

“No,” Peter said thoughtfully, “you’re not.”

Stiles was relaxing, in spite of himself. He couldn’t conjure up enough energy to be annoyed that Peter was here anymore. This was a scene of such domestic bliss, he revelled in it. He knew he shouldn’t, knew that this was going to hurt when Peter left again; but he couldn’t stop himself. He missed this.

“Peter…”

“Shush, get some sleep.”

Stiles settled into the sofa, the ministrations of his ex-lover lulling him into oblivion.

~~~

Theo watched from outside the house, surprised that his chest hurt. 

Somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with Stiles Stilinski; and unless he was very much mistaken, Stiles was in love with him, too. The shared nights researching and hunting, the movie nights, the easy way that they were with each other, it was a perfection he hadn’t realised he’d been searching for.

The scene in front of him was intimate in a way nothing they had done was. This wasn’t teenage lust and dates. This was maturity and companionship and he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to handle it.

It was so much easier when he was playing Stiles for his own ends. He felt like he’d worked out how he felt about Stiles too late; and didn’t know how he was going to handle the situation. Was he supposed to call him? Did he need a grand display of affection? Was he supposed to tell him that he loved him? Whichever he was supposed to do, he couldn’t deny that Stiles needed sleep and he seemed to find comfort in the ministrations of Theo's adversary; so he’d leave it be for now.

Peter must have sensed him, possibly he could smell him. He looked up, through the window and smiled.

Theo wanted to kill him. If he could work out a way to do it without Stiles finding out, then even better.

~~~

When Stiles woke up, he was under a blanket on his sofa and Peter was gone. 

Early morning light filtered through the curtains and he was surprised he’d slept through the night, that hadn’t happened in a long time.

He was also surprised to find that he was disappointed. He didn’t know what was worse: Peter being back in his life and knowing he couldn’t trust himself with him; or Peter still being gone.

He was going to have to work that out, as well as the argument that had happened with Theo. He groaned, turning his head to see just how bad the crick in his neck was. He realised that he had no pain at all and quickly surmised that Peter had been leaching his pain when he was with him; but where was he? If he’d been there recently enough that he hadn’t developed an ache. Why didn’t he stay around?

Stiles groaned and went in search of coffee. Maybe caffeine was the answer.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Beta is a genius.

Stiles supposed going on a hunt with your sort-of boyfriend when you were arguing was one of his most stupid decisions; but he didn’t realise quite how badly that decision was until he was strapped to a table and Theo was being slowly dragged away from him.

It had happened because they started to argue about the direction they were going to take in the vast warehouse. The Wendigos had caught them off guard, cutting them off from each other almost immediately.

He’d kick himself for it later, if he even had a later.

He had been blessedly left alone for the moment, flexing uselessly against his bonds and dreading what was to come.

When a Wendigo, teeth still dropped, came towards him with a scalpel and a grin, Stiles found that all of his snappy comebacks dried up in his throat. This was it, this was the end. He tried not to think about how his Father would be on his own now; but he did and a single tear escaped down his cheek.

“Oh, I like it when they’re anxious. Makes the meat taste better.”

Stiles shut his eyes, not wanting to see the first cut. He knew they’d be open and he’d be screaming soon enough. He vaguely wondered where Theo was; but found he was too scared to conjure up the concern for the other boy.

The cut never came.

He heard a scuffle and he turned his head just in time to see Peter snap the neck of the one advancing on him. 

Once the immediate threat had been neutralised, Peter undid Stiles’ bonds, urgently checking him over for injuries. Stiles remembered doing exactly the same thing for Theo; and now he wasn’t under threat of imminent death, remembered the other boy had been dragged off.

“Peter… Theo.”

Peter hesitated for a second, looked around to check there were no further threats, kissed Stiles swiftly and ran off.

Stiles was still sitting on the gurney when they came back, vaguely touching his lips and wondering what just happened. So many emotions had happened in such a short time, he felt like his head was spinning.

Peter came back swiftly, Theo in tow.

“Oh, God, Stiles.” Theo started, walking towards the gurney and helping Stiles to the floor. “Are you hurt?” He asked, checking him over for injuries. “Do we need to get you to…”

“Theo,” Stiles said firmly; but fondly, “I’m fine. Peter saved my life.”

“Oh.” 

Theo recovered quickly; but not so quick that Stiles didn’t see the massive concession he was making when he thanked Peter for saving Stiles’ life.

“Of course.” Peter drawled. “You weren’t doing much, though, were you.”

“Peter!”

“Well, it’s true, he let you get… You could have been… If I’d been a minute…”

Stiles could count on one hand the amount of times Peter had been speechless. It was often about him and he remembered the first time being when he’d finally said he loved him.

Stiles walked towards him, touching his hand to Peter’s upper arm.

“But I didn’t. I’m fine. You were on time.” Then, impishly, he continued. “For once.”

“Hey, I’m always on time!”

“Yeah, for the next appointment.”

“Stiles, that was _one time_ , can you let it go?”

“Nope, never.”

Stiles stalled when he realised he was smiling. He’d slipped easily back into banter with Peter and he really didn’t want to do that.

“Anyway,” he started awkwardly, “We should probably get out of…”

He looked at Theo, who had bristled, presumably a delayed reaction from what Peter had said.

Stiles had only moments to notice what was going to happen and really, getting between two werewolves is possibly the stupidest thing Stiles has ever done; but what was he supposed to do? He didn’t think he could cope with watching his lovers tear each other apart, even if he wasn’t sure at this point which one was his lover and which one wasn’t.

“I let you have him because you were protecting him! What use are you now?” Peter shouted, obviously noting the change in demeanour, too.

Stiles was outraged by the insinuation that he was property and now _really_ wasn’t the time to address it. So he did; because he was Stiles and he had no concept of timing whatsoever. He’d have to angst about it later.

“'Let you have him?’” Stiles rounded on Peter. “' _Let_ you have him’? Are you kidding? After everything we’ve done and been through you just loaned me out like some sort of DVD? Also, how rubbish is it that Blockbuster has gone under, where are you supposed to rent things from anymore, it’s like people didn’t realise that...”

“Stiles.” Peter said, sounding exasperated.

“Right, sorry. I’m pissed at you!”

“Noted.”

“And you! I’m pissed at you, too!”

“What have _I_ done?” Theo asked.

“I’m not sure yet, to be honest; but I’m really annoyed about the situation…and those stupid texts! I mean what’s more important than, look I’m just…”

Theo laughed. “Okay.”

He moved closer to Stiles and Peter growled.

Stiles raised his hands. “You know what, I’m done. Kill each other for all I care.”

They all knew that Stiles didn’t mean it. The supernatural members of the conversation could hear his heartbeat and smell his annoyance; but he wasn’t truly angry, although the chemo signal did read possibly a little sad.

Stiles stalked out of the warehouse, tripping slightly on the lip of the door and ready to tear either of them a new one if they helped him correct his stumble. Neither of them tried, which spoke volumes to how well they knew him and only made Stiles angrier.

He slammed the door of the rented jeep (and seriously how long did it take to fix a car around here?) and drove home. He knew he broke some speed limits but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

If anyone came after him, he didn’t see them. It was only after he’d slammed stuff around his room for a while, causing a small but in the scheme of thing inconsequential dent in the plaster of one of the walls, that he let his emotions in.

He sat on the floor of his room, lent against the broken wall and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, tears streamed down his face. He thumbed through his phone, looking at all the contacts in a row. He could call none of them, none of them wanted to know, none of them cared.

He was totally alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Actual note from the Beta written at the end of the chapter:** DON’T HURT STILES LIKE THIS! I’M SERIOUS! HE JUST WANTS PETER TO FUCK HIM AND BE HAPPY!
> 
> I laughed for longer than I care to admit.
> 
> ~~~
> 
>  **ETA 21st December 2015:** I've not forgotten about this fic, Christmas planning has just been hectic. Hope to get something up before New Year.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to J for betaing, you're such a star.
> 
> Thank you for waiting for this guys, sorry it's been such a long time coming. Advent is a crazy crazy time for me.

Theo thought it was predictable that both he and Peter arrived at Stiles’ house at the same time. He resisted the urge to giggle when it happened, knew that it was only nerves which made him want to do so. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

“Please,” Peter drawled, “after you.” He gestured with his arm in a sweeping motion. “I’ll wait.”

Theo barely restrained the urge to throttle the older man. He wasn’t there to have that fight, though he thought he may well be walking into another one.

He hadn’t called in advance and if he were being honest, it was because he wasn’t sure Stiles was going to reply. 

Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the door. He tried the knob before ringing the bell and was unsurprised to find it opened under his hand. Stiles was still not paying attention to his safety. At least that was in character, Theo mused.

The house was silent and Theo ‘s first thought was that Stiles wasn’t there, until he heard a small hitch in breath from upstairs and moved in that direction. It felt wrong somehow to be intruding on Stiles when they weren’t talking; but he didn’t know what else to do. Even the prospect of having this conversation with Peter listening wasn’t enough to dissuade him. He knocked on the door jamb beside the open door to Stiles’ room. 

Stiles opened his eyes and then closed them again, a look of utter defeat on his face. Theo could see that Stiles had been crying, though he didn’t appear to be doing so at the moment. He was slumped against a wall in his room: feet flat on the floor; knees up; and elbows resting on them, his head was leaning against the wall and he’d gone back to his eyes being closed.

Theo sat next to him, not touching him but mirroring his position.

He let the silence stretch for a while, unsure how he was going to say what he was going to say. He’d rehearsed on the way over here; but Peter’s presence had thrown a bit of a spanner in the works. He didn’t want to be killed before he’d said his piece.

Theo cleared his throat and just jumped in, let the chips fall where they may.

“I’ve been working with the Dread Doctors.”

Stiles’ head swivelled around to face Theo, a look of utter shock on his face.

“You’ve _what_?”

Theo knew he couldn’t stutter, couldn’t stumble. Stiles would jump on him for it straight away and he couldn’t afford to not explain himself. He wanted Stiles to know all of him, wanted Stiles to understand. He wanted Stiles to work with him, like he had been over these last few weeks. If he was totally honest with himself, he didn’t want to lose him.

“I’ve been working with the Dread Doctors… But it’s not what you think.”

Stiles moved from his position of defeat and turned to face Theo directly, legs crossed, almost touching. 

“You’ve been working with the Dread Doctors; but it’s not what I think?”

“No, it’s not. It’s… There’s a reason for it, they’re not evil. I’ve been helping them because…look it’s really not what you think.” Theo knew that what he’d managed to splutter out was far removed from what he should have said.

“And what do I _think_ Theo? Tell me, what my thoughts are on this matter? I’d love to know your detailed analysis.” He paused. “Oh God, that’s why you’ve been getting those texts; why you’ve been disappearing?”

Theo swallowed, hoping that Stiles’ insistence that Theo stayed alive would hold with Peter as he told his story. He wondered whether he was seconds away from being torn apart; and he didn’t know whether he deserved it or not.

Theo nodded. “Look, there’s something big coming; something bad. The Dread Doctors… Alright yes, they’re experimenting on kids but it’s not… They’re not. It’s not _bad_ , okay? They’re doing it so we can weather the storm that’s coming.” Theo could tell he was losing Stiles, so in desperation, he took a deep breath. “I’m one of their experiments.” 

“You’re _what_?” Stiles asked quietly, his stare boring into Theo.

“I’m one of their experiments.” Theo repeated. “Actually, I’m their first experiment. I’m their success story.” Theo injected the usual hint of sarcasm into the moniker. He hated being that.

Maybe it was the sarcasm that did it, Theo didn’t know; but Stiles softened slightly.

“You’re an experi… What _are_ you?”

Theo know he looked hurt by that comment but wasn’t sure he had any right to be. “I’m still Theo.”

Stiles looked at him for a long moment, not saying anything.

Theo waited. 

“No, you’re not.” Stiles started slowly, his voice hardening as he spoke. “I don’t know you at all, do I?”

“Stiles.” Theo said, reaching out his hand towards Stiles’ knee.

Stiles recoiled, scooting backwards away from the proffered appendage.

“No. Don’t. Don’t touch me.” Stiles looked up directly into Theo’s eyes. “I think you should leave.”

“Stiles. Just let me explain. I can… Look I may be an experiment; but they don’t control me. I’m not dangerous.” Off Stiles' look, Theo repeated himself. "I'm not. Believe me, _please_!"

“Theo, I don’t need your explanations. I don’t care if you’re part Jesus and are here to save the world; you lied to me, so you need to leave.” Stiles pitched his words low.

There was an undercurrent of danger to them that Theo couldn’t deny. Yet still he didn’t move.

“NOW!” Stiles shouted, physically pushing Theo away.

Theo reluctantly got to his feet. “I’ll call you lat…” The word died on Theo’s lips as he saw the look on Stiles’ face.

Theo left, heart heavy but determined to somehow make it up to Stiles. There must be something he could say that would help explain what the Dread Doctors were doing. If he needed to, he’d take Stiles to the operation, show him all the information. If Stiles knew what was coming, then maybe he’d forgive him for omitting the truth. He’d only done it to keep him safe in any case. Maybe he should have given Stiles more credit than that; after all, Stiles had more than proved himself in a fight. 

There was a hollow ache in his chest when he thought of all that he might have lost; and he resolutely did not look at Peter as he walked out the front door. His pace didn’t even falter when he couldn’t help hearing the smug chuckle which drifted on the wind, following him and mocking him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long. Real life has been absolutely mental. I haven't written a word for at least 3 weeks; which is just NOT ON.

Stiles’ phone rang and he glanced down at the caller ID, sighing as he did so. He supposed it was better to get both conversations out the way in the same evening, that way he really could start with a clean slate tomorrow morning. He couldn’t help comparing Peter’s methods to Theo’s. Peter had called, knowing full well Stiles may not answer, where Theo had just barged into his house. He wasn’t sure which method was better, which one annoyed him less. In any case, he got himself into this mess, freely giving his heart away; he may as well try to get himself out with as much dignity as possible.

“Peter.” Stiles said, as he answered.

“Would you like some tea?”

Stiles laughed, a strangely melancholy sound which seemed to echo both in the phone and out loud. Peter didn’t think he’d ever heard anything so sad. “Sure, Peter. I’ll be right down.”

Peter busied himself in the kitchen, hearing Stiles flop down onto the sofa; the ancient springs protesting as he did so. It was a scene that had happened countless times before and yet Peter was nervous. He’d fight for Stiles until his dying breath; but he wasn’t sure Stiles truly understood that; and he was rapidly running out of ways to show his former lover how much he cared. Tea would have to do for now, he’d see how the conversation went from there.

Peter moved into the living room, deliberately stepping heavily so Stiles could hear him approach and not startle. He could move with the grace of a cat when he needed to; but he infrequently did so around Stiles, who was nervous enough as it was. Stiles often had a low-grade anxiety air about him; but lately he had seemed downright scared. Peter attributed the change to that _creature_ who had thought he could help Stiles. He seriously couldn’t kill the kid soon enough.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” Stiles replied, taking the proffered cup and sitting up. He quite literally was not going to take this conversation lying down.

They sat there like that, sipping tea, Peter noting that Stiles had sat down on the sofa this time, allowing him to be nearer. He didn’t know if it as deliberate or not; but he would take it.

Peter was man enough to admit when he was wrong and he was about to start an apology when Stiles took a deep breath and lowered his mug so it was placed between his legs.

“I’m so tired.”

Peter shifted, turning towards Stiles, crossing a leg as he did so. “You can have a nap if you like, I’ll…”

“No.” Stiles said, cutting him off. “No, I mean I’m _tired_. This crap is just never ending!”

Peter took a breath to try to comfort Stiles; but didn’t get a chance.

“There’s werewolves, okay so that happened and I met you, which was great; but then there was the Argents and the Kanima and a Dark Druid and a 1000-year-old…” 

Stiles’ breath hitched there and Peter put his cup down on the coffee table and moved close enough to place a comforting hand on Stiles knee. Stiles didn’t shrug it off, so Peter rubbed his thumb along his thigh in a soothing motion as Stiles continued to talk.

“a…a Japanese _thing_ and then professional fucking assassins in this little sleepy town if you can believe it and then Dread Doctors and Chimeras and now this Beast thing and just when is it going to stop? Why won’t it just _stop_? Peter, make it stop. Please.”

Peter took the cup out from between Stiles’ legs and put it on the table next to his own. Drawing Stiles in, he embraced him with both arms.

Stiles fell into the circle of protection, leaning his head on Peter’s chest. He didn’t have the energy to be angry with him in anymore; wasn’t sure he’d had the energy to begin with. He wanted to scream at him, wanted to continue being angry; but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was tired. He was so bone weary of having to be strong all the time; having to be righteous; having to force a moral compass; having to give leeway to things which really shouldn’t be still alive. He let himself have this. It was what he wanted really anyway.

They stayed like that for an age; until Stiles was sure he wasn’t going to totally break down sobbing. There was being vulnerable in front of Peter and there was being _vulnerable._

He didn’t think he wanted to open himself up to him that much yet. They might be on a rocky road to recovery; but they weren’t where they had been, he needed to remember that. It would be so easy to fall back into old habits.

Stiles pulled away, though still retained contact. Peter’s knee was now resting against Stiles’ thigh and Stiles found that it grounded him. 

“I take it you heard the conversation I had with Theo?” Stiles asked, trying to get back some of the ground he’d lost.

Peter didn’t dignify the comment with an answer, merely tilted his head and smiled sardonically.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

“What do you think?”

Peter didn’t say anything for a while and Stiles nearly repeated the question.

“You’re not going to like it.”

Stiles sighed. “What else is new?”

“I think we need to get the rest of your merry band together.”

“No.” Stiles said immediately.

“Stiles…”

“ _No_ , Peter.” 

“Look, I know you and Scott have had a bit of a falling out; but…”

“A bit of a falling out?” Stiles replied, shoving Peter’s knee away enough that he could stand up. He started pacing immediately.

“Look, even I can’t do this on my own.”

“You’re not on your own.”

Peter glanced at Stiles and that was like a red rag to a bull.

“Look Peter, I know I’m not exactly super powered but I’ve been just fine. Theo and I have be…” Stiles paused in both his speech and his pacing. Swallowing, he started again. 

“Theo and I have been just fine. We’ve taken out umpteen wendigo nests and researched without the need of toxic back up. I can help.”

“Stiles, look I know it’s been difficult; but we can’t do this alone. Do you think I want to work with those children?”

Stiles smile lit up the room then. Peter's disdain for the pack was absolute; and the fact that hadn't changed somehow grounded Stiles. Peter was back and he was his support and that Peter didn't want to do this but still thought it was necessary, spoke volumes. Sometimes you had to work with people you didn’t trust, just to get the job done. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Peter was by Stiles’ side as the younger man grabbed his keys from the bowl by the door. They stepped through it together, mirroring each other’s gestures. 

Stiles couldn’t remember being this happy in ages. He could do this.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **J** and **I** are seriously the best people in the world.

Theo had watched the easy way Stiles was with Peter from the shadows near Stiles’ front door for a long time before leaving. He couldn’t tell whether Peter could see him or not, the older man made no gesture that showed he did; but Theo would be surprised if he wasn’t at least checking his periphery. He knew that this situation was getting ridiculous. He needed to get rid of Peter and win Stiles back, nothing else mattered because Peter was too dangerous to live. He'd broken Stiles' heart before, he couldn't be allowed to do it again. Theo could only think of one way now that he may be able to get Stiles back; and the idea didn't have much chance of success. Still, he had to try.

It wasn't easy; but Theo managed to glean slightly more of the Dread Doctor’s plan than he had previously known. They might be strange supernatural creatures; but they also apparently had a good filing system. Who’d have thought?

As he essentially had free reign of the lair it wasn’t hard to get into the room. It was difficult to have enough time to read the meticulous documents; and removing them from the lair entirely was impossible. This meant he was likely going to have to go to the pack without physical proof which probably wasn’t going to go down too well.

He knew that he had no choice though. He had to keep Stiles safe and this was the only way to do it.

~~~

“What do _you_ want?” Stiles asked, answering the door to the loft.

Theo sighed inwardly, this was not getting off to a good start. “Can I come in? I want to help.”

Stiles rolled his eyes but moved aside slightly so that Theo could squeeze his way into the loft. The close proximity to Theo immediately made his heartbeat increase and the look that Theo gave him showed that his former boyfriend had noticed. Great, that was just what he needed.

Peter immediately stood when he noticed who had walked in.

“What do _you_ want?” He asked with exactly the same inflection as Stiles.

Stiles smiled, despite himself (he'd been repeating to himself over and over again that this wasn't a year ago, that things couldn't just go back to how they'd been); but it _was_ good to have Peter back, if only in this incarnation.

“I’m here to help.”

Everyone in the room made a noise of disbelief and Theo started to wonder whether he’d made a huge mistake in coming.

“Look, I know we’ve had our differences…”

Everyone made the same noise again.

Theo moved further into the loft and Peter moved to block his path, a fixed smile firmly plastered on his face.

“Seriously?” Theo asked, exasperated.

“It’s taking all of my considerable restraint not to kill you where you stand; so yes, ‘seriously’. I wouldn’t make any sudden moves.”

Stiles moved round Theo and touched Peter on the arm.

The change was immediate. Peter’s bristled demeanour relaxed totally. The angry chemo signals that he had been exuding were replaced with contentedness. 

Theo wondered how many times now it was that he had wanted to kill him.

Scott, ever the mediator, walked over too. There were now more people over by the door than there were in the rest of the loft.

“Okay, Theo. Tell us what you know.”

Theo moved around Peter, never taking his eyes off Stiles but keeping the threat in his periphery. When he sat down, he started to speak before anyone else could stop him.

“As you know, the Dread Doctors have been experimenting on teenagers to make chimeras. It’s…” 

Theo took a moment to collect his thoughts, unsure how he was going to explain this and wishing he’d thought about what he was going to say before he’d arrived. He looked up to see Stiles staring at him intently. Stiles nodded minutely and Theo was bolstered to carry on. If Stiles was back on his side, he could do anything.

“Look, they’re creating chimeras because there’s something coming, something big.”

“Thanks for that very vague bit of information.” Malia said, bristling.

“No, look! You have to be ready for this, this is something you’ve never seen before. This thing is going to kill us all. The Dread Doctors are trying to stop it.”

“The things that have been turning teenagers into _monsters_ are ‘helping’?” Lydia joined in.

“I know how it sounds.”

“I don’t think you do. It sounds crazy.” Liam critiqued.

No-one was paying attention to him and Theo was feeling slightly flustered. He was expecting them to be sceptical but not to this degree. Theo looked over at Stiles imploringly.

“Let him explain.” Stiles said quietly, looking away from Theo as he did so.

The fact that Stiles looked away from him, hurt; but there were bigger things to think of. Theo wasn’t an incurable romantic; but it still upset him to realise that there were bigger things to deal with than winning Stiles back, it didn’t seem possible. 

“These things, they’re scared. I don’t know about you; but anything that scares the Dread Doctors, scares me. Now I’m not going to tell you that them taking teenagers was a good thing, that experimenting on them like that was right; but I’m also not totally discounting their plans. These teenagers are going to be the ones on the front line when this thing comes. I’m…” 

Theo looked over at Stiles again. Stiles had fixed his gaze back on him at some point during his speech and he again nodded minutely. Theo didn’t think anyone else had seen it, or if they had, they didn’t feel like mentioning it.

“I’m one of them, I'm one of the experiments.”

Theo waited until the gasps and exclamations had finished. The rest of the pack seemed to be taking their cues from Stiles, Scott and Peter; and as none of them had looked surprised, they assumed they had already known about it. Theo was unsurprised that Stiles had told Scott; and the fact that Peter knew confirmed his suspicions that Peter had been listening when Theo had been inside Stiles’ house. This knowledge should have made him annoyed; but he found he was mostly just tired with the whole affair.

“And we’re supposed to just believe that you’ve had a change of heart, that you’re giving us reliable information?” Peter asked, hackles rising again.

“I don’t care what you _believe_ , I’m telling the truth. It’s not us vs. them, it’s all of us vs. a bigger threat.” Theo looked over at Stiles, speaking more to him than the rest of the group. “I wouldn’t give you information that would hurt you.”

Stiles didn’t look away from Theo and he looked like he was about to reply, until Peter jumped in before Stiles had the chance. “Alright that’s it, I’ve heard enough. Get out!”

“Peter…” Scott said at the same time that Theo replied. “Fuck you.”

Peter stood then, attempting to tower over Theo, who moved incredibly quickly so that he was actually on the step above him.

“Geez! Both of you, sit down.” Stiles said, attempting to get hold of the situation and standing up himself.

“I’m not going to be dictated to by this…this _thing_. We’re leaving.”

He reached out a hand for Stiles but was surprised when Stiles didn’t take it.

“He has information, Peter.” Stiles said patiently, “we need him.”

Peter looked between Theo and Stiles a long moment before he sat back down, throwing a possessive arm around Stiles’ shoulder as he did so. “Fine, but I don’t like it.”

“Noted.” One of the pack said, though Peter didn’t know (or care) who it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm back on the good ship Steo though, I'm getting seasick with all the changes. :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **J** is amazing despite the fact that I keep getting excited and posting without her betaing. Her cheerleading is so gratefully received.

Stiles was reluctant to say that the final fight was anti-climactic. The fates were fickle things and he’d seen enough movies to note that the second someone said that ‘everything was fine’ something like a dragon turned up unexpectedly; so he kept his mouth shut. He swallowed his thoughts and surveyed his friends. Most of them were breathing heavily and partially covered in blood, although Malia had somehow come through the entire fight apparently unscathed, which amused him. Stiles could see their wounds knitting back together, so there had apparently been no ‘real’ damage. 

He scanned what could only be called a ‘battlefield’ if you were being particularly melodramatic, until his eyes fell on Peter. Peter was still lying on the floor, partially on his side; and a pool of blood was slowly spreading across the ground. There was way too much blood.

Stiles was running before his brain had the conscious thought to run, his long legs vaulting Liam’s who was still in a seated position, his feet in front of him.

“No, no, no, no, no. Peter. Peter!”

Stiles knelt down next to his partner, knees of his cords getting soaked with blood; and took in Peter’s visage. His chest was a bloody and torn mess. Stiles reached out to touch Peter several times; but drew his hand back when he realised he didn’t know where to put his hand without harming him.

“Peter!”

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He was watching his soul bleed out in front of him and he was impotent in the face of the medical emergency. Not for the first time, he wished he had some form of super power that could actually help his friends, instead of being the token human with a stupid baseball bat. In the end, he decided to talk Peter back to life. That was one thing he could do in spades. What was the use of being an ADHD-fuelled motor mouth if it couldn’t be useful at times to his friends and loved ones?

“Peter this is ridiculous, this is merely a flesh wound. Come back, you can bite someone’s legs off.” Stiles laughed without mirth at his joke but couldn’t sustain it.

“There’s nothing that you can’t heal from, where’s the big Alpha werewolf? You’re not this weak, Peter.” He insulted.

Stiles stopped, running out of words. He started to plead, tears in his eyes. “Peter, I swear to God if you die I am going to kill you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense you know.” Peter replied weakly.

Stiles let out a sob which was partially a laugh, repeating Peter’s name over and over again until his partner was sitting up and he was able to hug him.

“Peter don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.”

Stiles was hugging Peter, pulling away to check the wound was healing and then hugging him again. The front of his T-shirt was covered in blood but he couldn’t have cared less about anything in his whole life.

Theo stood off to the side, watching the reunion, a sinking feeling starting in his stomach. How could he compete with this? Stiles’ words during the fight stung and he heard them repeated over and over again as he turned away and walked towards his car, eyes misting as he did so. 

He had saved Stiles’ life when everyone was fighting or unconscious. _He_ had saved him, not Peter. It was so very unfair. All he had got in return was a sentence from Stiles, who then ran back into the fray, baseball bat in hand, leaving Theo alone. _This doesn’t change anything you know_. Theo thought those six words might haunt him until the day he died.

He didn’t remember the drive home and he didn’t care. 

~~~

When Theo woke hours later, still leaning against his bedroom wall, his face ached and his eyes stung. He’d known he _might_ have lost Stiles to Peter; but he never truly believed it was actually going to happen. Somehow that fact was worse than anything else that had happened in recent days. He’d take the beast ripping through his insides over and over again instead of the empty feeling that was blossoming in his chest.

He heard a bang downstairs and someone walking into his house. He didn’t move, waiting to find out whether it was fight or flight time. When he saw who it was, he wasn’t sure which was necessary.

“Tell us about the Dread Doctors.” Peter stated, breezing into Theo’s bedroom as if he owned the place.

Despite everything, Theo felt protective of the buggers. He was annoyed with himself; but couldn’t shrug the feeling off. 

“They shouldn’t follow you now; they were only creating us so that this thing could be fought.”

“That’s not how we do things around here.” Peter said caustically. 

Theo looked over at Stiles who had followed Peter in with a far less antagonistic look on his face.

“No, he’s right Theo. We’ve had enough trouble recently without letting things live which may one day come back to bite us.”

Theo didn’t think Stiles was threatening him; but he still felt fear at his words. Maybe _he_ was classed as a ‘loose end’. Stiles was still looking at him expectantly though, waiting for him to start talking; and if he couldn’t trust Stiles with what he was going to impart, he couldn’t trust anyone.

As soon as Theo had finished talking, Peter moved across the room quickly. The younger man got to his feet, seeing the threat for what it was. He stepped away from the wall, changing his stance to one of attack.

"Thanks for the information, we'll take it from here." Peter said, smiling. 

Peter slashed his claws towards Theo so fast, the younger man had no time to react.

Blood blossomed at Theo's throat and his hands impotently tried to keep the red liquid inside his body where it belonged. He wanted to speak, to tell Stiles how he felt; but he found he couldn't. Instead, his vision greying at the edges as he fell, he kept his eyes locked on his former mate. If there was an afterlife, he wanted to take the image of Stiles with him.

The very last thing Theo saw as he died was Stiles standing impassively beside Peter, his gaze locked on Theo but not meeting his eyes. Theo thought that might have been the saddest part of this whole mess. 

A single tear escaped down his cheekbone. 

He breathed once and then no more.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, so thankful for **J** and **I** , seriously couldn't have done this without you guys.

“They’ve got a weakness.” Stiles said as he walked into Derek’s loft.

The pack looked at him.

“Who have?” Liam asked.

“The Dread Doctors. We can kill them.”

“Do we need to?” Scott asked, ever the pacifist. “Isn’t this over?”

“It’s never over, Scott. You know that.” Stiles replied.

Scott idly wondered when Stiles had got so cynical. His best friend had always been pragmatic but it seemed worse recently. Yet another thing he could thank Theo for, he thought uncharitably; yet another thing you can thank _yourself_ for the snide part of his brain supplied.

“You don’t _have_ to kill them.” Peter drawled, “but if you don’t want them coming back to bite you later, I’d recommend it.”

Scott looked at Stiles for advice, asking the question with his eyes. Thirteen years of friendship and they were practically telepathic, though he wasn’t sure he really wanted this Stiles’ advice.

“He has a point, Scott.”

“Okay, where did you get the information?”

“Theo.” Stiles replied, a tone of genuine sadness in his voice.

“Where is he? I thought he wanted to help.” Lydia asked, joining the conversation at the door. “And are you coming in? You’re letting a draft in.”

Stiles and Peter walked in together, even their steps matching.

“He’s gone.” Stiles said.

Peter looked across at Stiles, who gave a minute shake of his head. Peter nodded back; pleased they were both on the same page. He would have followed Stiles’ lead regardless but it was nice to know that they were still in sync.

“Gone?” 

“Yeah, he’s not coming back.” Stiles replied, closing the sliding door. The action afforded him the luxury of not having to school his features when he relayed the statement.

~~~

The solution to the Dread Doctors conundrum was ridiculously easy, so easy that Lydia couldn’t believe they hadn’t worked it out themselves. As soon as Peter and Stiles relayed what Theo had told them, the pack made a collective sound of comprehension; followed by several noises declaring them all idiots for not realising it themselves. They knew that the Dread Doctors used frequencies to screw with the pack; but they hadn’t made the leap that they could also be used against them.

They went after them that night, frequency generator in hand.

Lydia stood off to the side, hopefully in a ‘safe’ space and used the generator to disrupt whatever it was that made the Dread Doctors so formidable. She had to change the frequency a couple of times (and she couldn’t work out how they’d managed to do that; but she could science it out later).  
It was actually fairly easy to kill them after that and more than one member of the pack found themselves thinking that the whole thing was _too_ easy; waiting for a secondary attack that never came.

Now that it was over, the adrenaline from the fight expended, Stiles didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to feel. It was easy to carry on when he had a foe right in front of him, easy to operate when he needed to do a metric-fuck-tonne of research. Now though, now it was quiet and he had nothing to distract him from everything the past few months had thrown at him. All of the thoughts flooded back in and threatened to overwhelm him. He had no idea where things were left with him and Scott; didn’t know what the hell was going on with him and Peter; and couldn’t think about Theo for more than a few seconds at a time. He knew his mind was going into overdrive, knew that he had to calm down before it morphed into a panic attack but didn’t know how.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Stiles jumped at the sound of someone breaking through his thoughts but immediately relaxed when he recognised the voice and heard what Peter had said. Stiles lowered the bat he hadn’t realised he was still clutching for dear life and winced when he realised he was actually injured. His ribs protested when he moved but he didn’t think he’d done any permanent damage.

“Yes, please.”

Peter led Stiles away by his hand, leaching some pain as he did so. He took great pleasure in the veiled looks of disgust from Lydia and Malia and the look of concern that crossed Scott’s face as they left. Stiles was oblivious to all of it, holding his bat uselessly in one hand and staring dazedly at the world as his thoughts crashed back in.

Peter deftly took Stiles’ keys and walked towards the driver’s side of the jeep. It was a testament to just how out of it Stiles was that he didn’t protest.

They drove in silence, the streetlights illuminating the inside of the jeep every other second. 

When they pulled up at Stiles’ house and Stiles didn’t move, Peter broke the silence.

“Do you want to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” Stiles replied, still staring straight ahead.

“About…”

“No, I really don’t.” Stiles replied, a shaky laugh bubbling out after his statement. “I just want to go inside, have some tea and watch trashy TV until we fall asleep.”

“Okay, Stiles. Okay.”

Peter was out of his door, around the front of the car and opening Stiles’ door before Stiles had summoned the energy to open his door himself. Stiles pushed down the memory which threatened to surface about the last time he’d had the door opened for him, plastered a smile on his face and stepped down to the ground; taking Peter’s proffered hand and allowing himself to be led towards his house as he did so.

Stiles didn’t have to think for a while. He knew that Peter would look after him and that thought was enough to push out any and all disquieting thoughts. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that it was over; knew that he’d over analyse things to death when he was less tired; and was unsure how everything would play out. 

Right now though, he could just go with Peter’s flow. That was all he’d ever wanted anyway.


	21. Epilogue

Stiles wanted to stay mad at Theo, wanted to retain the indignation at what he'd done; but life didn't work like that. It hurt less to demonise Theo, made him an object to scorn and not to mourn; but anger faded over time and now he just felt desperately sad.

Even forging a new life with Peter didn't fully assuage his feelings over the matter; and so he found himself, one year later (Beacon Hills having once more been saved from the brink of destruction; pack _mostly_ mended but not totally whole; Scott still wary of Peter no matter how much Stiles protested) at Theo's graveside.

Stiles didn't know what Theo's parents had been told about the death of their son, and he supposed it didn't matter. Dead was dead, no matter how you sliced it. He was curious to know, though. He wondered what all of the parents of the dead children had been told, surely there would have been an EPA investigation if the police thought there was Mercury poisoning in the town. Maybe his dad was once more covering up the supernatural side of Beacon Hills. The idea made Stiles sad; his dad shouldn’t have to deal with this. Supernatural Armageddon was outside the purview of the Sheriff job description.

Peter waited at the car. He knew that Stiles needed to do this and Stiles was grateful that he didn’t have to explain why. 

If Stiles was honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure why he needed to make the visit. It wasn’t like he’d been going regularly. He hadn’t visited at all in fact; hadn’t attended the funeral; hadn’t been able to talk about him to anyone. Scott had tried once but Stiles shut him down almost immediately and no-one else had tried since. He didn't know what Scott thought about Theo's death, he assumed that Scott had his suspicions but he hadn't voiced them. Stiles was grateful for that, he didn't know what he would have said in any case. He was grateful for the pack's support; but it still seemed false somehow. They hadn’t known Theo, hadn’t trusted him with their lives. Their support and sadness was for Stiles’ situation and feelings and not for Theo; and Stiles couldn’t deal with that. This shouldn’t be about him. He couldn’t decide whether it would have been better to do this sooner. Still, he was here now; looking at the next incarnation of Theo Raeken. 

Stiles had stood in a house that he had come to know almost as well as his own and stared at Theo’s body until it had been removed. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blood and didn’t want to. Even the drip he heard of the blood on the floor, which must have been from Peter’s hand until he cleaned up; wasn’t enough to distract him from his vigil. He thought he would feel something about Theo’s passing but he felt nothing. He didn’t even feel numb, it was like all of his emotions had been scooped out and they’d left a hole in his chest.

The gravestone still looked new, the weather not having claimed it for its own yet. Stiles ran his hand across the top of the stone, then crouched down to trace Theo’s full name. He let out a small giggle at the image he had of a tiny Theo trying to learn how to spell his name. Theodore Charles Raeken II was a lot to put on a four-year-old.

The giggle turned into a hitched breath and then he was falling to the ground, sprawled in the dirt, hugging his knees and just sobbing. 

In the grand scheme of things, their relationship (if you could call it that) had lasted all of about two months. It shouldn’t have had as much impact as it did. Except Stiles knew that wasn’t how it went. People could come into your life and make a profound impact in seconds, and have an effect that could last forever, whether you wanted it to or not. Stiles thought he was done comparing Theo to Scott; but he found that that was the only other relationship that had sprung, fully formed, into being; so it was hard not to.

“I miss you.” Stiles got out, between breaths. “I know I have no right to, I know you died because of me; but I can’t help it. We were…we were good together, weren’t we? I think we were. I think in another life, we could have been happy. Here though, here I have…here it’s different. I don’t blame you anymore. I just…just trust is a big deal to me and I tend to lose it when people…you don’t need to hear that, I…it’s just hard for me to let people in. You though, we got on so well and then you were with _them_ and I didn’t know how to handle that…you, you hid things from me too. Why couldn’t you just have been honest with me? I have friends of all sorts, sometimes it’s like Noah’s fucking Ark in Beacon Hills, do you think I’d have balked at a Chimera? Why didn’t you trust me? Why couldn’t you just _trust_ me? Did I do something wrong?”

Stiles’ breath hitched again and he had to stop speaking for a moment. When he had (mostly) composed himself, he began again.

“Oh hey, yeah we managed to stop the Dread Doctors. Your information was really useful and I got to use my board again and it was great and you’d have been really inter…I’m sorry I didn’t accept you for who you were. That wasn’t fair, no-one should have to go through that. You accepted me when I kill…when the _accident_ happened and I just didn’t return the favour did I? And then Peter, he gets so protective and you were being…but I should have been able to stop it, if I’d just listened to you when…look, I…I’m sorry.”

Stiles drew his hand up so it was resting on the headstone, “Theo, I’m just so, so sorry,” he whispered.

Stiles didn’t know how long he sat there crying, didn’t know when he’d shifted to just staring at Theo’s name on the grave, etching it into his memory. He knew that he probably wouldn’t come back and maybe that was why he stayed there; long past the point at which he’d gone numb from cold, into the twilight hours and then until the name was obscured by darkness.

He stood, stretched, and turned away from the grave, not looking back. He’d said his piece, made peace with his demons, maybe now he could get back to some semblance of normal. No matter how much you want it to stay the same, life never does.

It was hard to pick his way across the cemetery in the total darkness. He nearly tripped multiple times but he didn’t get his phone out; somehow it seemed disrespectful to do so.

When he found the path, it was quicker going and he was back to the road in minutes. He was about to pull his phone out to call Peter to collect him when he saw a shape, leaning against a saloon car. There was more light out on the road, a streetlamp being not far away; but it was a shape he thought he would have recognised even in the pitch darkness. A swell of happiness coursed through his body. He didn’t know how many hours it had been; but Peter had waited for him.

Stiles locked eyes with Peter, a small smile ghosting his face. “Let’s go home.”

Peter let out a breath.

To anyone else it was just a breath, no different to any others; but Stiles could tell that it meant he had been worried. He probably wasn’t sure which Stiles he was going to get back: a sullen angry one; or a sad one, smile never quite meeting his eyes. It had been a tumultuous year and Stiles knew he had been difficult. He was humbled by how patient Peter had been with him. Now that was over, he was going to try to be the best partner he could be. After all, this was for life.

“Okay Stiles, okay.” 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Gods guys, the response on this fic has been phenomenal. I am so humbled by your support, it means a lot.
> 
> I have had great fun writing this and so it's lovely to hear that you had great fun reading it. Massive props to my beta **J** and my cheerleader **I** both of whom have become great friends through this.
> 
>  
> 
> I love all of you more than you know.
> 
>  
> 
> ~A


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